RODERICH EDELSTEIN: a fieldguide declassified
by FanSlewFantasy
Summary: REQUEST FIC from ages ago. Gilbert has a bad habit of stalking, in the creepiest possible way. AU school life, hard yaoi, PRUAUS, Very long. DL,DR Sorry in advance for the formatting, fanfic was having a hissy. Please review? love. :3


A request fic, For Sheemajay AGES ago… im sorry it took so long to finish… OTL I hope it is satisfactory. also, apologies in advance for the formatting. i dont even know what the fuck happened there. :/ oh mah gawd... NIGHTMARE!

**…**

**RODERICH EDELSTEIN: a field guide**_  
>TOP SECRET Property of Gilbert B<br>class 13py_

_…_

PART ONE

Gilbert had this book.

It was a small book, but fat. The kind with a soft leather binding and tabs to mark important pages. It said 'Collins paper workshop' on the back in gold letters.

Or at least it did, until somewhere along the line he struck it out with vivid and twunk the words 'PROPERTY OF ADMIRAL AWESOME: KEEPTH THOU MITTS OFF' right over the whole cover.

One could never be sure, looking at it, if it was a diary, a notebook, a planner or even a choca edition of porn neatly disguised between a vandalised case.

He always _wrote _in it.

This struck me as somewhat unusual. I didn't know Gilbert Beilschmidt _particularly_ well, but we had been class mates for almost a year and up until he brought that book to school I hadn't even been aware he was literate. He never paid attention in class, and when he did it was only to harass teachers or fellow students. If it wasn't for the fact his national physics results were keeping the school in brand new library books and top quality whiteboard markers, I'm pretty sure he would have been kicked out ages ago.

Yes, somehow Gilbert was an accomplished physicist. I don't have a clue how that happened either, because the only time I had ever seen him with a calculator was when he was showing everyone the twenty-eight dirty words he could spell on the display.

All in all, it was a bit of a mystery.

The day I suppose you could say 'it started' was more or less a normal day at the start of a 'new boarding semester'. I was a little anxious, my parents having chosen to go to Israel for nine months had enrolled me in the boarding facility on campus, I was to get a new room-mate, and a new way of life. My suitcase under my arm I hobbled up the sweep of stairs at the front of the dorms and was unsurprised to see Gilbert lazing on the low wall with those friends of his, Francis by his side and Antonio the-Spanish-exchange-student-who-had-been-here-six-months-and-still-didn't-speak-a-word-of-English, sitting on the step below. The three of them boarded, I knew so much. And with a soft sigh of resignation I dragged my case over, hoping they could give me some advice.

Suitably enough, it was a grey autumn day. The wind scraped dead leaves across the footpath, the chill in the air required a scarf of anyone brave enough to leave the indoors. The stout brick building bearing the coat of arms and the title 'Hadfield House' was not unwelcoming, but not entirely inspiring joy in my chest either. Unlike the rest of the relatively modernised school (proudly renovated in 1998) it bore a serious sort of maturity, a longsome age cloaked in creeping ivy and the ghosts of Top percentile boys, who worked endlessly to maintain a reputation becoming students of_ the Collegiate. _

I actually sort of liked it, but that didn't make it any less imposing, and it certainly didn't suit the raucous group laughing and fooling and cussing loudly over memories of the prior semester and plans involving the one forthcoming.

"Excuse me." Upon reaching them, standing far enough away to be aloof but not so far that it was awkward, I clipped my words as neatly and impersonally as possible. Past experience had taught me to avoid interaction with the likes of 'the bad touch trio' as much as I could, but sometimes a gentleman had to set aside his dignity in order to progress. "I'm new in the dorm, and was wondering if one of you could give me directions to where I am supposed to go."

Gilbert stopped speaking immediately, and swung his head around as if he had only just noticed I was there. He was in mufti still, and a school regulation nightmare. More jewellery in his ears than a respectable girl should have, a Munroe piercing to boot, and a rumpled tank top I suspect he slept in over torn black jeans. He was smoking, not a real cigarette either, one of those placebo electric ones you buy from the chemists for five pound.

"'What?" he asked in a low, reckless catch of accent. "Come again?" he barely pronounced his 'W's, and seemed amused by my presence.

"I said, can you help me?"

Francis sniffed, he always was a superior little shit, and only ever spoke to Gilbert and pretty girls. "Ignore 'im Gilbert. Finish telling me about zis movie."

Gilbert waved a slim, heavily bangled hand. Antonio the clueless gave me a bright smile. No comprehension whatsoever reflected in his bright green eyes, and I found it somewhat concerning.

_"Hola, chico bonito. Es esto él, Gilbert?" _he cocked an eyebrow curiously and turned to the other man. _"tiene los ojos lila y el pelo moreno…"_

_"si, si, Callate la boca, estupido…"_ Gilbert whacked him neatly around the head and stood up, dusting his pants. Francis found something about this very funny, and Antonio too laughed, when he had finished getting minor whiplash.

Grumbling under his breath, Gilbert slid from his perch, bent down and picked up The Book (which I had just noticed was sitting by his foot the whole time) and slipped his fake cigarette into his pocket.

"You don't speak Spanish do you?" he asked me sharply, and I shook my head.

"Good." He stomped on Antonio's toe shortly as he stepped past and the other two teenagers (both smoking real cigarettes) receded into giggles and snorts, Antonio going 'Ow ow ow!' about his toe.

"Right." Gilbert hitched his mysterious book under his arm and combed his fingers through unbrushed silver hair. "Your name… Roderich, ja?"

Antonio laughed so hard at this I thought he might wet himself. I tried to send him a filthy glare, but it was wasted. Francis just rolled his eyes and stubbed his cigarette on the brickwork.

I pressed my lips together and nodded. Gilbert pulled a face and turned his back, bouncing smoothly up the stairs.

"Come 'with me then."

Shooting his friends a final glare, I ascended the steps, my suitcase thumping up the stairs behind me. He waited for me with the door propped open, eyebrow cocked. The angle his face was tipped at, his bone structure struck me as unusual and graceful, I stumbled, but straightened myself immediately and set my case down, to flex my fingers. His eyes rolled, dark, dark things, almost black, and glinting with an unnatural red.

"Give me that." His hand thrust forward and he grabbed the handle of my suitcase, lifting it with ease. "Princess."

Well, that was unwelcome. My jaw loosened and he snorted.

"Come on then. This 'way." He disappeared into the building; I had to jog to keep up with him. "You 'will be roomed according to your surname. 'What is it?"

"Edelstein."

"Mm." he paused about five metres in, halfway down a pleasantly cosy wood panelled hall bearing photos of classes that dated back to the 1890's, and turned to what looked like a notice board by the mail boxes. "You are in… room 4. 'With Antonio. And next to me and Francis." He chuckled haughtily. "Ohh… princess. 'We are going to have some good times." A slight leer over his shoulder, I clenched my fists in immediate discomfort.

"Don't call me that!"

He whistled softly and picked my case back up.

"Come on… 'we are all friends here."

I thought bitterly that I would never be friends with the likes of Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'd quite frankly rather die.

…

_The subject appears to be useless with directions. He never seems to know where he is going, but rather than ask for help he simply wanders around aimlessly, trying to look like he knows what he is doing._

_…_

Antonio was pleasant enough, I supposed. He was quiet, and fairly tidy. Every now and then he offered me the bag of tomato snack crackers he was eating, but I politely declined even though I was hungry.

His side of the room Gilbert had shown me to was decorated with huge posters of football players and photos of a tiny brunette boy wearing a straw hat and a deep scowl.

_"El __es mi novio"_ he told me when he caught me looking at one of the pictures. His smile was bright and laughing, he was reading what looked like the Spanish version of OK magazine, sprawled on his bed in a hand knitted jumper and oversized socks. "_¿no es lindo?"_

I had no idea what to say, so I just nodded.

"…see?"

He laughed at me, and went back to reading, like he had been for almost two hours. It must be the only thing to do here, at the dorms in the evenings, because he had a towering stack of them on his side table and there wasn't a TV in sight.

A little embarrassed and frustrated, I sat down at my desk and flipped open my laptop. My stomach grumbled loudly, and a soft chuckle told me he had heard it.

_"¿Tienes hambre? Hay comida en el comedor."_

"What?" I turned around, he sat up on his bed cross legged and perky.

"_Comida."_ He made an exaggerated eating gesture. _"el comedor." _he pointed at the roof. I blinked at him dumbly, and curled my toes in my shoes.

"I'm sorry, I totally don't…"

_"Com-i-da."_ Apparently, a patient man, Antonio repeated the action. _"Alimentos. Arriba."_

I shook my head and he sighed, slipping off his bed and stretching. Rather than say anything, he waved his hand in a follow me gesture, and spouted a thick paragraph of Spanish that must have been an anecdote or an assurance or something. He edged toward the door and pulled it open. I stood numbly, not at all sure what I was meant to be doing.

_"Roderich, va-"_

"Oh hi. I 'was just coming to see you guys."

A familiar voice, blessedly speaking English, Gilbert poked his head round the door and gave me a sideways grin.

"Thought I should check if princess had eaten yet."

I shook my head and pointed to Antonio. "What's he saying?"

Antonio rubbed his lower lip and tossed soft dark waves of hair from his eyes. Gilbert frowned at me and turned to his friend.

_"¿Qué has dicho?"_

A rapid fire explanation, filled with hand flicking and hair touching, Antonio spoke to the other with his whole body and I wondered for a moment if he was trying to cram his whole life story into the brief speech he was presenting. Gilbert seemed to follow perfectly though, and more than once he grinned.

_"Ok, gracias." _He drew it out, pronouncing it Grass-ee-ass, and flicking his hand in a loose mockery of my roommate, who clouted him around the head and waved me to come to the door.

_"Meh._"

He threw himself back onto his bed and hunted for his place in the magazine. Gilbert looked to me.

"He said there's food in the dining room upstairs if you're hungry."

"Oh." I stood up and stretched. "Well I am."

"Hm." He edged into our room and sat down beside Antonio on his bed. "Sweet as then."

I stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do, when the two started gossiping about the magazine in Spanish. I hadn't known Gilbert spoke Spanish, but then again, I shouldn't have been surprised. Gilbert could probably do a lot of things I didn't know about, and nor did I have any interest in knowing.

"Aren't you going?" he noticed me standing there and turned back. "Or what?"

"I…" I trailed off awkwardly and Antonio dissolved into laughter, rolling sideways on the bed and poking Gilbert in the side repeatedly. He murmured something, and Gilbert snickered. I couldn't help but feeling they were laughing at me.

"You don't know where to go?"

"… Yes."

He shook his head in bemusement and grasped Antonio's poky hand. "Go down the corridor to the left and upstairs. And you! Asshole." Before I knew what was happening, the two were engaged in a fierce wrestling match. It made me distinctly uncomfortable, it was so… un-gentlemanly and juvenile. I left the dorm and headed the way he had advised me. I'd never been so hungry in my life.

…

_The subject appears to be obscenely stuck up. This isn't anything new… but it never ceases to be adorable._

_…_

I got the first card the next morning, around midday.

Everyone at the school knew, even the separate girls day classes, as soon as I turned up in class the next morning with the other dorm boys (Gilbert, Antonio, Francis, Heracles the guy everyone called 'kitty' and a quiet stranger named Berwald I had never seen before) that I was now a border and rather than deny the truth I shrugged it off, refusing to let the whispers and murmurs bother me. Everyone knew the rumours about the borders, even I did, and I knew nothing about rumours or anything.

Everyone knew the borders were faggots.

Maybe that was why I had been so reluctant to sign in when my parents presented the option. After all, with dean Kirkland always watching over the congress in the rooms (as he had been watching the congress last night at dinner) and dean Jones of the junior school watching out for students of all year levels (there were five year groups, each of which had between five and twelve boys in the boarding rooms) sneaking out after hours, socializing with females was to them out of the question. While the rumours about teenagers getting so desperate for sex that they fucked their roommates were probably unfounded (if Antonio tried anything on I would rip his dick off, kind smile or not) the fact that I had to break up with my Liz before I went into the dorms was genuine and somewhat painful. I didn't need any of my classmates poking at wounds and accusing me of being a cock jockey after that. It was a big sacrifice I had to make, and the only reason I made it was because the school offered the best music department in the country. But still. That doesn't mean I was comfortable about it. At all.

Grumbling, after enduring a whole two periods of stares and whispers and questions, I had trudged back to the dorm about lunch time, between English class and physics, to check if a promised letter from Liz (who had been spending her summer in the Netherlands) had arrived yet. It had not, but five or six letters addressed to me and no doubt written by immature juniors were crammed in my cubby, saying things about faggot fraternities and other homophobic slurs I wasn't _entirely_ opposed to, so long as they weren't directed at me.

Having known what to expect (Gilbert last year, I thought abstractly, had covered his school books with his, and Francis used to use the back of them to write algebra notes on) I crumpled them up and tossed them away. The one lying flatly in the bottom of my box I almost missed. I was just about to crush that and toss it too, before something peculiar about it caught my eye.

It was written on card. Matte, about the size of a business card, and in silky black pen.

_Let's discover our coefficient of friction_

I frowned, and flipped it over in confusion. There was nothing written on the other side.

What the hell was a co-efficient of friction?

I shrugged, and tucked the card in my pocket. I would Google it later. But first, physics class.

..

_The subject is too busy playing his piano and violin to study, or do work. This much is obvious in his physics results… the lowest in the school. hahaha.  
><em>

_…_

"Gilbert, could you _please_ clarify this for everyone else? I give up."

The teacher, a peculiar old lady with atrociously dyed hair and a hunched back, collapsed in her chair, exasperated. I turned to the student next to me, a bright friendly kid called Tino, and asked him if I could check my answers with his. He shrugged, and passed me his paper.

"Sure. But I can tell you know they are wrong. I guessed them all."

Physics was always hell.

I was _atrocious_. As, apparently, was everyone else. Only an hour and a half and a sheet of basic problems in, the teacher was already calling in the emergency resort at the back of the class, who was unsurprisingly scribbling in The Book and chatting to Francis under his breath. He looked up, surprised at being addressed, and slurred a "'What?" in a way that made me wonder if he had been drinking. His face looked naked without his piercings, and his uniform looked like it had been worn by a bear the whole summer. Tatty and crumpled and obviously defaced. Someone had drawn a dick on the leg of his grey shorts, and his tie was not a tie at all it was a broad blue ribbon he had cut into a diamond at the end, in the vague hope no-one would notice.

"Electro-magnetism"

"Oh, uh…" he shut his book and ruffled his hair. "Okay. Well, its like, how particles behave under the influence of an electrical charge."

Everyone nodded and unison and scribbled that down. I set down my pen, refusing point blank to take notes based on his ramblings. Screw the results, there had to be a mistake. No way could this long-winded imbecile know _ANYTHING_ about particle anything. Really. He must have cheated.

Unfortunately, I knew nothing about the garbage he was talking about, so I couldn't be sure. It sounded like he as making it up alright.

Rolling my eyes, I reached for my textbook and flicked through the index, the card was still in my pocket.

_Coefficient of friction_

I looked for it in the indexes, and found nothing. So logically, I looked up friction. It was on page 88.

"-and yeah…" Gilbert summarized his little lesson with this eloquent statement and the teacher hummed in approval. "It's easy as, Miss."

"Thank you Gilbert. Has everyone got that?"

A unanimous yes, she closed her books on the table and everyone else began packing away their papers.

"Oh, mister Edelstein?"

"Yes Miss?" I looked up from where I was scrolling through lists of types of friction. She gave me a tight smile, the sort teacher reserve for trouble makers, and beckoned me forward.

"That note you have. Let's have a look at it?"

"Note?" I frowned and glanced down to my desk. The only thing on it remotely like a note was the card. "I haven't got a note."

"Don't lie dear, I saw you take it out of your pocket. Tino, can you bring it forward?"

Tino glanced at me apologetically and picked the card off my desk. I frowned and opened my mouth to complain, but closed it again almost immediately. He slipped from his seat and down the aisle, passing it over.

"It's not a note Miss." I told her. "It's something else entirely."

She blinked at me snidely and lifted it up. By this point, everyone in the room was looking at me sitting bewildered, book still open to that specific page.

"Oh? So if it's not a note you won't mind if I read it to the class?"

"I don't-"

"Let's discover our co-efficient of friction."

Her smile dropped off her face as soon as she said it. Everyone in the class immediately giggled, and I couldn't help but feel I had missed out on a good joke.

"What?" I asked. More giggles, and a deep, strong laugh I immediately pinned to Gilbert. It had a grating quality, like hang your hair combed the entirely wrong way.

"Mister Edelstein! This is not an appropriate thing to be writing in class!"

"What?" I asked again, flustered now and utterly confused. "I didn't write it. What's so funny?"

"Remain after class. We will be having a very serious talk about this."

I would have argued, is it wasn't for a large tanned hand falling on my shoulder.

"Oops…" Antonio wiggled his eyebrows at me, before being whisked away by Gilbert and Francis. The three of them tramped from the room in fits of laughter, and Gilbert sent me a last, mirthful look on his way out the door.

What the hell just happened?

…

_The subject has a tendacy toward poor luck…_

_…_

"It was a pick-up line!" I threw my books furiously on my bed. Antonio, who had been lounging on his bed with his laptop open and hid earphones in, jumped and stared at me in dumb astonishment. "It was a goddamned sexual innuendo and some sick bastard is making fun of me!"

I pulled off my school uniform and threw it on the floor by my suitcase. The bitch had kept me in for three hours, it had gone five o'clock and I was so hungry and desperate for a shower I could have cried.

"Stupid idiots. Do you know anything about this?" I spun on my heel, getting right up into the face of my most likely entirely innocent roommate. "Was this some stupid prank?"

I totally forgot, for a moment, he had no idea what I was saying.

_"¿Qué?"_

I sighed and stepped back.

"Sorry," my hand pressed to my forehead in exasperation, and I drew that I would have a shower, eat some food, then go to bed early. "I was just kind of angry. Have you seen my towel?" I looked around the room for my bathroom stuff and located it thrown casually over the back of my desk chair, from last night. "Never mind, found it."¨

I decided dryly that actually, I kind of liked having Antonio as a room-mate. I could talk to him, and get whatever I needed off my chest, and he couldn't understand nor talk back.

This I decided as I scooped my razor, body gel and towel into my arms, could be used to my advantage in the future.

He was still staring at me in blank shock when I left the room once more.

…

_The subject looks so adorable when he doesn't know what the fuck is happening to him! His face blanches and he sits all stiff like he has a stick up his ass. _

…

The showers were at the back of the dorms, away from the senior rooms and closer to the juniors. The juniors and middles of course, had showers in the mornings, seniors in the evenings. Because there were only five of us seniors, it was a lot easier to shower alone when the opportunity arose. Or at least, one would think.

Regretfully, there was already someone in the showers when I arrived. I Pulled a face and dropped my towel and change of clothes on the bench by one of the sinks, hoping it would be Berwald or Heracles, but knowing with a dull resignation it would most likely be Francis with his wandering hands and greedy laugh, I stripped off completely and grabbed my shaving razor and shower bag, before padding over to the section of the communal bathroom in which three showers were contained. My glasses. I had forgotten about them, and hurried back to sit them with my clothes before returning to the showers and turning one on without looking around to see the other occupant. Flood of hot water, jetting with the force of geysers, bulleted onto my skin, the steam bloomed and I hissed, turning the temp knob down and doing that crazy little dance one does, when being rained on by the fiery flames of hell. I dropped my razor, it clattered to the ground and slid across the tiled floor and I whined. The onslaught of steam and lack of glasses had essentially blinded me. A piece of random advice drifted to the top of my mind and the sound of someone else standing in the shower beside me, the hot water spattering over his skin, floated to the top of my mind.

_Never drop the soap, kid_

I hadn't dropped the soap, but what I had done was almost as bad.

I swore under my breath and felt around for my foot.

"Hi, Roderich."

His voice made me jump.

"Gilbert?"

"Ja, 'wait a sec, it's by my foot." He swept down and picked something up, when he stood I swivelled my eyes around. His shape formed, solidifying and shifting in the steam. Already so pale, the whiteness that shattered the light from the ceiling lamp seemed to melt into his skin and hair. He had his Munroe piercing back in, it glinted mutely at me, heavy with a fat droplet of water. "Ta-da." A cocky grin, I snatched it back and set it and the rest of my stuff of the little shower ledge in the corner, so I wouldn't have to look at the expanse of his chest.

"Thanks." I grunted, reaching for the bottle of shave foam and pumping a sizeable quantity onto my face. Something about this he seemed to find utterly hilarious. I glared at him.

"What?"

"You. Shaving. Seems kinda pointless doesn't it? I mean, you have no facial hair."

"Because I shave."

"Nah, it's genetic. See, give me your hand." He seized my wrist and pressed it to his cheek. The feeling was shocking, and I tried to yank it back but he was much stronger.

"_This_ is 'what facial hair feels like."

The texture of his skin was unblemished and soft, but not at all smooth. He had a heavy roughness around his chin and the side of his jaw, thinning as his cheeks rose to a lift of a bone, which I recognised instantly as stubble.

"I shaved this morning, and it's already rough like this. You shave how often?"

"… Once a week?" I stuttered, wishing he would let go of my hand.

"Exactly." Smiling slightly, leaning a little too close for comfort, a single finger reached forward and stroked through the foam on my chin. "And look, smooth as a baby's backside." His finger traced my jaw line and located the beauty mark below my lip almost precisely, despite the thick white cream obscuring it. "it's kinda cute though. Like 'watching a boy pretend to be a man."

He dropped my hand and his finger from my face and flicked his hair back. Even from this small distance, though, his ghostly beard was so pale it was invisible. I noticed he had his nipple pierced as well, and immediately averted my eyes, kicking myself for even noticing.

"Nice love note you 'wrote to the teacher today, too." He commented lightly, reaching for his own bar of soap. "Pretty funny stuff. I didn't realise you were in to nerd pick-up lines."

"It wasn't a love note!" I told him hotly. For some reason, the idea of Gilbert thinking I write love notes made me angry. "and I'm not. I know nothing about physics or any of that stupid stuff."

"Oh?" his expression didn't change, he lathered himself up and the sharp smell of bergamot oranges, from his soap, crinkled in the air. "'Whatever you say then."

I narrowed my eyes almost aggressively.

"Damn right."

I turned my back to him, and continued my shower in relative peace.

…

_The subject, though of vehemently denied Jewish descent, does NOT appear to be circumcised. _

_NOTE TO SELF: research sexual stimulation and the male foreskin._

PART TWO

"How long are you even here for, anyway?" I spoke to Antonio, who by this point had taken to ignoring me completely when I spoke at him, in favour of his magazines or game of QWOP. "I mean, you've been here almost eight months, you still don't speak English. And why in the name of God do you sleep with the photo of that boy under your pillow. What is he, your brother or something?"

He flicked his page and reached for his can of soda resting on the windowsill absent mindedly. I clucked, and rolled over on my bed to reach for my glasses on my side table. "I got another one of these today." I told him, sliding open the drawer on my nightstand and ruffling through about a hundred cards, each with horribly embarrassing nerd pick-up lines on them, and about three letters. Some of which had even, on my birthday for example, come with small gifts. A bag of chocolate covered coffee beans. My favourite.

I would have been pissed about it, if after a while my suspicions of a stupid prank hadn't totally melted to awareness of some kind of secret admirer. It was certainly a soothing, somewhat remedial feeling, after that letter from Liz never came and over the long weekend I had spotted her joined by the lips to some looser in a McDonalds restaurant. Sometimes, on lazy Saturdays like today, I would read through them again, and ask Antonio for his opinion. Which of course he never gave.

All of this mind, was on the condition he was not with Gilbert, the two of them huddled over The Book and giggling like thirteen year old girls. That used to happen maybe once a week, but was becoming so frequent now I wondered how long it would be before Gilbert proposed we switch rooms, and I go sleep with Francis.

As if I would sleep in the same room as THAT walking STD.

I found the letter I was looking for and unfolded it. This one had come on a single sheet of neat letter writing paper, unlike the previous which had been scribbled hastily on refill. Antonio was of course the closest thing (besides the piano in the music room) I had to a friend in this school, and he was the only one who knew about the messages. Or, he would have been. If he understood a word of English.

On the bright side, I was understanding a little Spanish now. Things like 'no habla inglesis' and 'Tengo su tarea'. That was always nice.

"This one came with a tiny bunch of cornflowers." I glanced briefly at the small glass containing the beautiful bright blue blossoms and tied with a white ribbon. "Listen, I will read it to you."

I cleared my throat importantly.

"_Roderich,_

_Hey… awkward but it's me again. Just so you know, you look über cute in that scarf and sweater you wore the other day. Pale green suits you well and… I can't believe I am telling you about your clothes. Fuck me right?_

_Anyway, really like you, a lot, and cant wait as always for the day I am brave enough to come say it to your face. I'm going to do it before graduation, I promise._

_Xx your secret admirer."_

God. I dropped the letter on my bed and sighed heavily.

"Isn't that the worst love letter you've ever heard? Who ever wrote it must be crazy. Or dumb. Or playing a joke." I nudged my glasses up and rubbed my eyes. "But you know what's even worse? As cheesy and trashy and fucked up as it is, I kind of secretly like getting this shit. Especially the cards. Look, they are so cute."

I pulled out a handful and started reading them out loud.

"'Your eyes have a perfect wavelength of 563.4 nm.', 'Can I have your significant digits?', 'You're more special than relativity.' And of course my favourite 'I'm attracted to you like the Earth is attracted to the Sun - with a large force inversely proportional to the distance squared.'"

I bit my lip and buried my face in my pillow.

"I love nerdy girls."

The admission was muffled, and Antonio just didn't give a fuck. I dragged myself to my feet and shoved my messages and notes away in the drawer again. Time to go downstairs and check my cubby for another one. I'd already checked today, and there was something, but I always entertain the hope that there might be another every occasion. After the initial shock of getting the cards wore off, I started to really enjoy them and found that after I had Googled some of the terms, they made my day. There was nothing quite like knowing one of the girls in the day school found you sexy. Sometimes I sat in the shared dining room and let my eyes wander, choosing out the ones I wished was behind my secret messages.

That and the fact my physics results had gotten way better, since I started receiving them.

I hadn't even realised I was smiling until, upon opening the door, I collided with Gilbert and he asked me rather rudely "'What are you grinning about, princess?"

"None of your business, now move." I waved him aside, knocking his arm as I passed and wincing when The Book wacked my arm. It had gotten heavier since the start of semester, and sometimes I still found myself wondering what the fuck it was. I was still yet to see Gilbert write anything outside the pages and frankly the fierce obsession he seemed to have with it (always holding the thing to his chest or by his side) was somewhat concerning.

He snickered and let me past. God I hated that snicker! He only seemed to do it around me and I dunno it just gave me the impression of being… inferior. Which was bullshit. My parent paid huge amounts of money to send me here and he was only attending on scholarship. Those unbelievable science results again…

He shut the door behind me, and sighing, hoping I wouldn't run into Francis (who had taken to leering at me and inviting me in his breathy voice to come sit in his and gilberts room for a bit) on the way, I headed downstairs.

…

_The subject is pissed at me right now because on class trip to the aquarium, I grabbed a dead clownfish out of one of the tanks and threw it at him._

_NOTE: the subject has an obscene and irrational terror of clownfish. And fish in general._

…

It wasn't there.

I looked under my pillow, under my bed, through my wardrobe, even through my satchel and no. nothing. I couldn't for the life of me find it.

"Antonio, have you seen my tank top?" I straightened up, pyjama bottoms in hand and standing there in my boxer shorts, utterly perplexed as to where it could have gone. "It's pale grey."

He had just come back from his turn in the bathroom (turns out that the borders had a special, unspoken 'masturbation roster' in which they allotted each individual twenty minutes in the bathroom alone every two days, and well, Antonio followed that roster like clockwork) and was already crawling into bed. He frowned at me and tucked a stray coil of hair behind his ear.

"_Huh?_"

"My tank top. Um…" I glanced around for an example but had none, so I traced the shape of it on my torso. He frowned at me, and I don't know… for some reason, even though it was him who didn't speak English, whenever he did that _I_ felt like the stupid one.

The sound of a door handle catching was heraldic. I sighed in relief and turned to face Gilbert when he came in.

"Oh good, Gilbert, can you ask Antonio if he knows where my tank top is?"

He froze in his spot upon seeing me, hand still resting on the handle of the door.

Gilbert slept shirtless, clearly, which is all well and good for anyone with a handsome body like his own but for anyone slender and feminine like me, it was rather intimidating. His baggy navy sleep trousers, slung low, revealed the line of his hips and cotton of suspiciously _dark_ hair from navel to what one knew was a crotch, and I thought it was interesting that the carpet didn't really match the drapes. More than once in the shower I had considered asking him if he bleached his hair, but that would mean admitting I had been looking at his sizeable junk. Which I didn't want to do. At all. He was still brushing his teeth, red toothbrush jammed into one cheek, glass of hot chocolate in his other hand.

"I uh…" his eyes flickered strangely and before I could do anything he had stepped neatly back from the door and walked swiftly away down the hall.

"What the fuck?" I jumped over my violin case and the tumble of dirty clothes I had left on my floor post-hunt and swung on the door frame just in time to see him dart around the corner at the far end of the corridor.

Antonio laughed _some more_, and I snapped my head back to him, glaring. That boy seemed to think everything was a great joke.

He shook his head subtly and reached for his phone on the side table.

"He is so hopeless."

I tripped on my way back to my bed and landed with a soft _fump_ on my mattress. By the time I looked up he was peeking mirthfully at me over the top of his cellphone.

"Did you… just… what did you say?"

His little smile widened, showing a mischievous dimple and the points of two neat canine teeth. Finish texting, he dropped his phone on the bed and lay down.

"_Buenos noches, Roderich."_

I sat there for about twenty minutes staring at his prone figure, feeling treacherously grim and hoping I had misheard another Spanish slur.

…

_The subject has a great ass… like, I want to grab it and squeeze it and slap that like no-ones business. He's pretty naked down there too. Fuuuckkk…_

…

I studied the pen work again, thinking on it, how beautiful it was in the smooth, elegant way I had become so familiar with. I'd never seen such amazingly perfect handwriting. Id never read anything so sweet and romantic and-

"Princess! How's it going? 'Where's Antonio? I- hey 'whatcha got there?"

Nothing!" I leapt out of my desk chair and crammed the card into my ass pocket before he could see, my foot knocked my violin case over, and he laughed.

"Yeah yeah… come on Roddy. Show me 'what it is…"

"It's private!"

"It's not another love letter to the teacher is it?"

"No!" I flushed, and folded my arms as I collapsed back into my chair. Laughing in that irritating way he does, he settled in the desk next to me, throwing his massive mysterious black book down and sending a cooling waft of something deliciously fresh smelling my way. It was his perfume, I recognised it immediately. It came in a ruggedly expensive looking bottle and I simply knew Francis must have bought it for him, because no way in hell could I imagine him going into a department store and paying for it.

"'Well, 'where is Toni?"

"Oh, I uh…" I shrugged. "He's sick, so he stayed in bed all day. I think." I frowned. "Why? Hasn't he told you? I assumed he would have texted you or something."

"Oh." Gilbert pulled a face and rubbed his nose briefly. "You know… he must have forgotten."

He flipped over the mystery book so it was the wrong way around and pulled it open to a blank page.

"Do you have a pen?" he asked. "Mine broke."

"Sure, just don't… chew on it."

Too late, he had already snatched it and jammed it in his mouth. Jokes on him though, I had been sucking that pen earlier this morning in music theory.

"Tastes like Roderich germs." He took the pen in hand and holding one side of the journal up to conceal whatever it was he was writing, he began scribbling fiercely. I noticed, with dry interest, he wrote with his other hand…

"You're left handed." I commented. He stopped writing and looked at me incredulously.

"'What?"

"I said you are left handed."

"… By God! Really!" the book was closed, he stared at his left hand in awe. "'Wow! I never knew!"

"Okay, okay! No need to be so dicky about it!" I regretted saying anything, and settled back into my seat.

Gilbert had been getting progressively worse all year. It was as though, now because I was living at the school, that automatically made us 'friends'. Sure, it may have made us 'acquaintances' of sorts, but the thought of being 'friends' with Gilbert was unappealing on about nine levels. I would quite frankly really rather not.

It wasn't that I was a _snob._ It was more kind of just that I was better than him, and frankly I had never really been comfortable around messy, careless, recklessly lower-middle class trash such as _that_.

And I wasn't about to start.

At first it had been easy to dismiss, by simply changing seats, cloistering myself in the music room at breaks, and pretending to be listening to music whenever he was in my room with Antonio I could avoid all or most interaction with him. But it got a little harder when he started behaving in ways that were a little less than… normal. Even for Gilbert. Maybe it was just how the trash conducted themselves normally… I dunno. Barging into my piano practice rooms bearing large bottles of soda and cakes enough for the two of us, slipping foreign objects down my shirt when I was focused on homework or crushing his arms around me from behind. He was loud, invasive, touchy feely, and whenever he was around me, so close, I couldn't help feel a little naked.

I worried my lower lip, and scanned the classroom absently, looking for girls and trying to match a face to that flawless feline handwriting. Gilbert had opened his book and resumed scribbling, humming raggedly to himself. It was distracting, and the longer he was there the more aware I was becoming of his smell. Not the smell of his eau du toilette either. His actual smell, an opaque gauze of sweat and something distinctly Gilbert that seemed to just permeate from his hair most strongly. I wiggled in my seat, and tried to peer at him from the corner of my eye.

He spoke German and Spanish, and English too. I wondered if whatever he was writing in that book was in English. Curious, I craned my neck to peek.

"'Woah, 'what do you think you are doing?" he slammed the book shut and frowned. "Trying to lurk over my shoulder."

"What? I wasn't doing anything." An immediate flush coloured my face upon being caught looking, I turned away and hid my face with my hand so he wouldn't see. How had he even noticed? I hadn't turned my head or anything! What the hell?

"You 'were so, you 'were trying to see in my book."

"I don't care what's in your stupid book." I shuffled as far away from him as I could, head flying up in relief when the classroom door rattled in promise of the teachers arrival.

"Then 'why-"

"Shhh!" I hissed him into silence, setting my book open and my eyes to my page. "Shut up! I'm trying to learn!"

I could feel the burn of his perplexion burning on the back of my bowed head.

…

_The subject is aged 17, birthday October 26_

_…_

I stretched languorously in bed and rolled onto my back. The fluttering warmth of a late autumn morning teased the gauzy curtains that Antonio had not drawn when he opened the window, a soft wave of the most pleasant perfume stirred me to crack a bleary eye open. All I saw at first was a radiant marshmallow of blankets and sheets, the cool cloth crinkling over my partially naked (I still hadn't found my sleep top) body. The loom of a dark shape just beyond my peripheral vision startled me, and yowling like a cat I sat up, head almost colliding with who or whatever it was lurking over me while I slept.

Wide dark eyes locked with mine, looking just as astonished as I felt, and I stared at Gilbert dumbly for a good thirty seconds before realising.

"What the hell?" I seized my pillow and brought it around the side of his head. "What do you think you are doing? What the FUCK man?"

He yelped and jerked himself back, to away my fierce pillow flailing.

"'Woah, princess, calm-"

"What are you doing here?" nearly hysterical now (this is a bad day to start the day by God… this is the worst wake up ever what is this I do not even…) I threw my pillow across the room at him. He dodged it, and screeched in frustration. He was still in his sleep clothes… and then I remembered what had been going on. Francis had had company in the dorm last night, and Antonio had, without consulting me, given Gilbert the okay to sleep in our room.

Where the fuck was Antonio anyway?

"I 'was asleep! And then I 'woke up!"

"Why were you watching me sleep!" Feeling rather violated, I wrapped one arm around my chest and whined, splayed hand pawing for my glasses on my side table. "That's fucking creepy! Watching people sleep! What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing is 'wrong with me! And I was NOT watching you sleep!"

"You were so! I opened my eyes and you were looking over my bed like a creeper!" I crammed my glasses on my face and regarded him properly. His haughty scoffing face was visible now, even his dramatic eye roll, and the anxious way he clutched my pillow to his stomach.

"You 'wish pri-"

"Don't say it!" I pointed at him angrily, demanding his silence. "don't you dare say it!"

"say 'what?"

"princess, don't do it!" I slipped out of bed and hitched up my shorties. "And what's wrong with your face are you sunburned or something? Where s Antonio, anyway? Goddamned pervert." Huffing to myself, I turned away from him, busying myself in my drawers. After the initial shock had worn off, my heart beat calmed, I found I was able to talk normally to him again. After all, Gilbert was the kind of guy who just _did_ those sorts of creepy things. Regretfully, I was getting accustomed to it. Or desensitized, depending how you want to see it.

I heard him rustle the blankets on the floor he was supposed to have slept in, and a soft _fomp_ that meant he had dropped onto Antonio's bed.

"What's the time?" I asked carelessly, dragging out a pair of trousers and a t-shirt. "Is breakfast over?"

"It's gone nine-thirty. Breakfast finished a half hour ago. You're lucky it's a Saturday, you slept straight through the alarm."

"I'm tired." Exasperated, I started getting changed. "Is a man not allowed to sleep in after a long night of doing assignme-"

"I like your flowers." He cut me off, and my head snapped up to the only flowers in the room. "They are a beautiful colour… but you could use some new ones."

My face flushed immediately at the thought of my secret admirer, and the flowers delivered a week ago that were indeed beginning to wilt.

"They are lovely, aren't they?" Tight lipped I reached for the small glass and removed the posy. "but they are a week old and need to go out." I cast the dead blooms into the paper bin and set the glass back down on the window ledge.

"'Why didn't you throw them out 'when they were beginning to die?"

"Because… I didn't want to."

Because they were so gorgeous and every time I had looked at them I had started grinning like an idiot.

"'Where did they come from."

"… I picked them."

"Picked them 'where?"

"I… why are you so nosey?" I spun around to face him, sitting innocent as they come on the edge of Toni's bed, smiling at me placidly and still clutching my pillow to his chest. "it's none of your business."

"'Were they from a girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend!"

His eyes fluttered, and something like shock registered before being whisked away again in a split second.

"Really? I thought you and the senior girl from last year-"

"We broke up!" I folded my arms, not comfortable discussing my love life with this heathen. "Now if you don't mind-"

"_Hola! Como estáis?"_ Antonio clattered into the dorm room to break the tension, large carton of milk, some bread, a box of bran flakes and a handful of butter/jam packs tucked into his makeshift-shirt hammock. _"Tenéis hambre? Tengo comida."_

"Oh!" Gilbert leapt off the bed in excitement, more or less lunging at the box of cornflakes and plunging his hand straight in. "Fuck man. Legend…"

Antonio snickered and dumped the bread and condiments on the end of his bed.

"_Roderich?"_ he dug around in his pocket and pulled out something I recognised with a horrid tremble of despair and embarrassment as another letter. Why the hell would he give it to me in front of Gilbert? _"eso es tuyo?"_

"Stop getting my mail!" I snatched the envelope away from him and Gilbert cocked an eyebrow curiously. I had told Antonio at least twenty times to not do that, but he always did anyway. It was as though he didn't understand Engli-

… Never mind.

"It's personal!"

"'What is it?" Gilbert wore a faintly strange expression, an almost smile that looked like it was about to pop into giggles. I sat down on my bed, ripped my drawer open and blushing violently cast it in with the others. I could read it later when he was gone.

"It's nothing!"

Antonio took his seat cross legged beside Gilbert and prised the cereal box from his hands. _"muy lindo... sabes, no tiene ni idea, Gilbert?"_

_"ese es el punto, dumbass._ _Devuélveme mi cerea."_

_"No. Es mío."_

I swallowed anxiously and lunging forward with lightning precision grabbed the cereal box that Antonio was holding out of gilberts reach.

"What did he say?" I demanded, not trusting the ditzy Spanish idiot at all. "and don't look at me so shocked! Don't try and talk about me behind my back in Spanish, I'm not an idiot. What did he say?"

"… 'We 'were talking about cereal…"

"'we were talking about cereal'." I mimicked him and peeked into the cereal box, horribly discomforted. "Like hell you were. I'm on to you. BOTH of you!" there wasn't much in there, I decided that rather than finish it off I would pop down the street to a kiosk and buy a coffee and croissant for breakfast. I threw it back carelessly and checked my jeans pockets. There was still cash in there from some obscure time period, I wasted not time stalking to the door, hesitating to glare at them over my shoulder before I left.

"I am watching you." I pointed to my eyes, and then at the two teenagers sitting on the bed. Gilbert looked astonished, Antonio was pleasantly occupied with munching his way through some bread instead of paying any attention whatsoever.

_"Locooooooo~" _Antonio's sing-song voice was the last thing I heard.

…

_The subject seems to have this thing with underwear. Just underwear, everywhere. Most of it in poor condition. I took a pair, to cuddle up to with that wonderful smelling tank-top I borrowed. I'm sure they will not be missed. _

_…_

PART THREE

It began to snow.

It began to snow, and school edged closer and closer to an end. The Christmas holiday sign up sheets went up around midway through the month, and I was first on the list under Antonio as wanting to remain at the school for Christmas.

Well, not so much wanting to as needing to, but you know.

Of course, Gilbert's was listed directly beneath.

"Hey princess." He caught me one evening after school in the library, trying to make sense of my insane physics assignment, and put his ass on the desk I was using right beside my stack of textbooks. Obviously, to get here he had to have battled through snow, because there were flakes of it in his hair and on the shoulders of his large military green bomber jacket. "'Whatcha doing?"

"Studying, go away."

"Need help?" he took a long sip from a cup of what I suspected was black coffee four sugars and tucked his fringe, which was damp and getting a little long and raggy, off his face. "Whatcha learning about?"

"DST."

"DST, oh that's easy." He set his coffee down and leaned over my work, snatching my pen away. "If you are having trouble remembering the equation, use this." He drew a quick triangle on the top of my paper and separated it into three sections. "Just remember, Distance in the top, Speed and time in the bottom two. Divide down or multiply horizontally to get the missing value." He scribbled the words and instructions in for me, before slipping off the edge of the desk and leaning over me, from behind. I squirmed uncomfortably. Why in the hell was he so goddamned clingy! Always touchy feely and in my personal space. It was so creepy!

"Gilbert get off me."

"But you look all cold and lonely sitting there." He chuckled and squeezed my shoulders, I clawed the table in frustration, thinking that I hadn't been before, but now the wet and cold from his jacket was soaking through the back of my shirt I sure was alright.

"I'm not cold and I'm not lonely. Cant you go bother Francis?"

He's gone, the non-staying students went home for the Christmas this morning. Have you been cloistered in here all day or 'what?"

"Well maybe I have! Not everyone is a physics master you know."

"Is that the closest to a compliment I'm ever going to get from you?" he rested his chin on my shoulder, cold cheek pressing to mine uncomfortably. I flushed and utterly bothered, turned to face him. This nonsense was _really _starting to test my patience.

"'Cause if it was then I 'want a refund."

That did it. With those words every shred of tolerance snapped. The final straw, if you will, I banged my hand down on the desk and glared at him.

"As if I would ever compliment the likes of you." spitting, a little more hotly than intended, I clawed at his hands and tried to pry his arms away. "Now let me go! I don't like you, and I don't like having you in my face all the time! Fuck off."

"Rawr… this kitty has claws." Smirking, He tilted his face so we were nose to nose, almost forehead to forehead. The lazy curl of his lips was handsome, but seeming, his cunning eyes lowered, pupils dilated dangerously. "It's about time. God princess you always look so uptight. Maybe you should let yourself loosen up a little. Get a little loud and angry and 'wild. Don't be afraid to say 'what's on your mind." His smile broadened, the point of one of his teeth scraped his lower lip. His next words were almost a breath. "Especially around me. You call me 'whatever the hell you like from now on, okay?"

I swallowed, heartbeat rising, still fuming and trembling, actually, with the size of my little outburst. He gave me a brief squeeze and stood up.

"I guess I 'will be going then." He ruffled my hair roughly before he left, I hissed, staring at the stupid little know it all scribble he had marked on my page and the shape of Gilbert's illusive, never before seen handwriting. It was surprising, not all caps and angles like I had suspected, but curly, although it wasn't linked.

Surprises, the bastard was full of them. And I had never liked surprises, not even when I was a little boy.

…

_The subject has an ex-girlfriend. EX-girlfriend. Which means right now he is on the market. All for me… maybe I should take up a musical instrument. How about the bass? Everyone LOVES the bass…_

_…_

The one thing about the Christmas holidays that made me feel a little grim was the fact that with no classes, the girls at the girls academy beside us would not be here, and therefore it was unlikely I would be getting any more cards until after new years.

So of course I was very shocked when on Christmas morning, stumbling downstairs in my robe and bleary eyed, there was another note in my cubby, along with a small flat package I immediately recognised as a CD.

Wide awake now, feeling like a fugitive with something that I really should not have, I secreted the gift onto my robe and glanced around the deserted foyer, heartbeat an excited little bird fluttering in my chest. It was not early, the clock had already gone ten, and it was very dark outside, the landscape heavy with snow. I had left Antonio and Gilbert in the room, and wasn't altogether sure I wanted to go back up to open it, but there wasn't anywhere else to go. Besides, it was cold outside our room. Damnit… Conflict.

I really do not want to open such a thing in front of Gilbert.

I chewed my lip and hurried back toward my dorm.

About three doors own from the room I began hearing the hideously familiar howl of whatever the hell sort of music it was Gilbert liked to listen to, and clutched the CD hopefully. Music taste… I was about to find out about my admirers music taste. Nothing could be more important to me, and I very desperately hoped it wouldn't be anything heinous. Like Hannah Montana or Slipknot.

The concern it might be something even more inconceivably awful, like Gilbert's beloved Rammstein and incredibly aggressive hardcore techno pounding from Antonio's crappy laptop speakers, didn't even cross my mind. I was pretty convinced that no one else in the world ever could have such terrible music taste as his.

"Could you turn that down?" I shouted, wading into the room through torn wrapping paper and discarded coffee cups and beer cans. "I can hear it all the way down the hall!"

Antonio was the only one who heard me, sitting cross legged on the end of his bed wearing festive boxers and, surprise surprise, texting, he grinned at me, and waved when I entered the room.

"Gilbert!" I pointed to him instantly, "Get Gilbert?"

His brow creased, his phone clutched in two hands lowered to his lap.

"_Que?"_ he mouthed. I rolled my eyes and waved my hands, collapsing on my bed. Gilbert was obviously waaaayyyy too occupied with scribbling in The Book to pay attention to me. Asshole.

Huffing, I pulled out my gift and tore off the paper.

There wasn't a note. Just the item. My eyebrows arched, I lay down on my bed on my stomach, pillow clutched to my chest, and flipped it over.

_Zbigniew Preisner, Ten easy pieces for piano._

The cover was plain, a yellow post it with a little love heart on it attached to the one corner, and boasted nothing remotely s'uspicious at all… the plastic CD shack seal was still on, and curious I pealed it off to peek at the disk inside.

"Whatcha got there?"

"Hell!" I leapt up, dropping the CD, shoving Gilbert away as hard as I possibly could. "What are you doing? Go away, write in your stupid book!"

"Nahh…. I 'want to see 'what you got there." His voice was high, to be heard over the volume of the music. "Is it a Christmas present?"

"Yes! And if you don't go away I am going to cram it so far up your nose it will come out your ass. Now FUCK OFF!" I threw myself around so my back was to him and curled into an embarrassed little ball. His laughter was horrid, and without a care he dropped onto the bed beside me, still in his own Christmas knickers.

"_Antonio, mi libro por favour"_

_"Si, si…"_ I heard Antonio shift on his bed, and throw something heavy and bricklike into Gilbert's lap. He made himself comfortable on my bed, elbowing my back as he wrote and making me grate my teeth in frustration.

And this was how I spent my Christmas day, a howling German man serenading me to fractured sleep.

…

_The subject is so gorgeous when he sleeps… all curled up and not looking at all snotty or grouchy or anything. I want to lick him. All the way from his toes to the nape of his neck. God I want him so fucking bad…_

…

When I woke up, I was warm, comfortable, and everything smelled good. It was dark of course, in the Winter the sun set around five pm, but not pitch black. I supposed, judging by the subtle gold edging through my eyelids, that the lamp was on, wiggling down a little more against whatever warm soft thing it was draped across my back.

Somewhere, beyond my consciousness, music was playing.

It was light and ambient, solo piano and very beautiful. Calming and mellow and screwing my eyebrows together I flicked my eyes open. My vision blurred behind my glasses and I hissed softly, reminding myself (too late now) to take them off before I sleep. The music was still rolling, a tide of clear sparkling notes totally contradictory to the harsh screaming chords I had fallen asleep to.

The thing pressed against my shoulders shifted, something adorning my waist tightened and the slithering of cloth beneath a subtly moving body horrified me. Breath skated the edge of my ear, warm and deep in sleep. The blank wall in front of me gave no escape, there was not a sound or sight to give a clue as to whoever the hell it was _spooning me while I sleep_, but one did not need to be a genius to figure it out.

"Gilbert!" I sat up, realising I was barely even clothed anymore. My fluffy bathrobe had slipped all the way down my arms, the tie loose and the sides ruffed around my waist. He had his legs, his naked, hairy _legs _tangled with my own. Clutching the remains of my dignity to my chest, I shoved him backward and moved as far away as I could, hating the warmth his bare skin had left on my body. "You pig! What are you doing?"

He seemed just as startled as me, sitting back and frowning at me blearily, shoulders rolling, hair mussed and his heavy stupid book lying in his lap.

"I uh… I was sleeping?" a sleepy toss of his hair off his face, I glanced him over in horror, the way he was sitting as if he had no shame. His skin… god it was pale. Indecently pale. Like opaque silk wrapping a frame of marble. Long red scratches left on his chest when he scratched, bored eyes rolling, he sat up properly and sighed. "'What is up your ass?"

"Nothing!" I kicked him in the stomach, not too hard but hard enough to push him backward. "But I genuinely do NOT appreciate waking up with YOU in my bed!"

"You fell asleep 'with me in your bed." He rubbed his stomach, clearly bewildered as to why I had kicked him.

"That's not an excuse for you to- get off. Get off!" insistent, I kept jabbing him with my foot. He hissed, shuffling backward until he had to get off my mattress. "That's not an excuse for YOU to sleep here! Why didn't you go to your stupid room?"

"Because it's fucking Christmas man, who 'wants to spend Christmas alone?"

"Get Antonio to go with you!"

"Do you see Antonio anywhere?" he snapped, locating his t-shirt on the floor and tugging it on. "He's gone out 'with some Columbian friends or something. You know?" he puffed on an imaginary cigarette and flexed.

I shook my head, not giving a single fuck and still in shock. I simply could not believe that he had been spooning me.

"Well that's just tough isn't it? Get out!"

"But-"

"Get out of my room, Gilbert!" I pointed to the door. "Go watch porn or bootleg movies or take cocaine or whatever the fuck else it is you do somewhere entirely else."

He stuck out his tongue, picking his pants off the floor and throwing them over his shoulder.

"Fine. It's not like I 'would 'want to spend time with a ponce like you." He stomped through the unholy pile of him and Antonio's rubbish to the door. "You never gave me a Christmas present either, jerk."

One last scathing look over his shoulder, I was somewhat shocked, actually, by the glint in his eyes because it was a total shift from the indifference there before, he wrenched the door open and stomped heavily out. Ten seconds too late I realised what he had said.

"You didn't get me one first, asshole." pouting I adjusted my robe and got off my rumpled bed, so as to click the door shut in his wake. I realised as I passed by Antonio's open laptop on my desk, the music was still playing. That really beautiful piano. I stopped by the desk to check the artist and log on the laptop, if I could get a name I could learn the pieces and then perhaps I could spend the evening sorting out some extra study for physics class. My laptop was… I didn't know, and I couldn't be bothered finding it. I would borrow Antonio's instead.

I keyed in the password (Lovino) and popped open the music player window.

_Zbigniew Preisner_,

"…" I paused in shock, glancing down at the desk and sure enough seeing the empty CD case by my arm.

Gilbert's stack of scratched, caseless CDs had been cast aside and my new one had been playing on loop for… two hours, according to Antonio's computer.

What the hell?

I sighed and ejected the CD, kicking up Firefox and typing my email provider into the browser.

At least, I thought contentedly, this so called 'secret admirer' had good taste in music.

…

_The subject never masturbates. But has a lot of wet dreams. Alas, I may as well stop with my investigations in regards to seeing if I can catch him jacking off then. I will stick to just following him into the showers._

…

The next morning, after setting my mysterious admirers CD in the player, (I really, really did like it,) I decided to tackle the mess that Antonio and Gilbert had left behind.

The stupid Spanish dick still wasn't back from whatever he was doing, which meant I had to do all the cleaning up of wrapping paper, beer cans, and misplaced gifts myself, sorting them in to Antonio piles and Gilbert piles and Roderich piles, and putting my own things away. Antonio had gotten a LOT of weird shit for his presents, a lot of celebrity gossip magazines and underwear with tomatoes on them. Gilbert had gotten gay porn (most likely a joke from Francis. There was something wrong with that man alright,) more death CDs and a couple of tedious looking novels based on the romantic and personal lives of modern physicists. Very much must reads, I decided after reading the back, if you liked being piss bored all the time and having your toenails removed one by painful one.

My own pile, some clothes, a biography, and a new bow for my violin, was sorted into its respective place, and finally finished (it had gone ten am and I was yet to have breakfast) I stood in the doorway to regard my work. The only thing not yet done was make my bed, but due to an unfortunate dream related incident I had to change the sheets anyway, so that was fine.

Deciding I should probably do that first, I cast my pinstriped blue duvet onto the ground and began stripping off the sheets. Luckily they were white and cheep, and no-one would notice once they had been through the communal laundry and put back in the communal sheet shelf. I tried not to think about how many times I had slept in sheets that had already been treated this way by someone else. Potentially even Gilbert. It made me a little queasy…

When I tugged the fitted sheet of the mattress though, a heavy _thunk_, the sound of something that had fallen down the back of my bed and been caught in the tuck of sheet, echoed in the silent room. Thinking it was probably one of my novels or something had put under my pillow, I crawled over the bed and stuck my hand down the back of it, fingers nudging dust bunnies and rolled old socks long since forgotten about. A little patting around and… there! The smooth surface of what was definitely a book. A fucking heavy book, when I pulled it up from behind the bed, it almost hurt my shoulder.

"Oh!" surprised, I set it down on my bed and sat myself cross legged before it. "It's Gilbert's… thing." I frowned and touched the warn cover of the book. The big twink letters had long since scratched to awkward white chunks, the surface was smooth and pleasant under my fingers. "Weird… it's kind of… nice, heavy." I held it and weighed it in my hands. The pages were pleasantly yellowed around the edges.

I wondered what it was…

Well, a fugitive look assured me that there was nothing much to stop me. A lip bitten smile, feeling all very naughty, I cracked it open, and started flicking through the writing covered pages. There were A LOT of writing covered pages. Covered in elegant loops and sometimes small sketches and mathematical diagrams that seemed unrelated, and had been struck out. Everything was written in mechanical pencil, a precise grey, and everything was so painfully neat it actually disturbed me to look at.

Surely, this was not Gilbert's? Gilbert Gilbert's? Really?

I frowned, and ran my fingers over the pencil bumps on the pages. There was something delightful and pleasing about the forms of the letters. .. I quirked my lip, enjoying them. He penned his 'G's fancy. With lots of cute curls. Oh boy was I going to tease him for that.

I hesitated, frowning. I had seen that G before. I was convinced…

With a sudden surge of urgency, I flipped to the back of the book (he wrote back to front, I remembered for some reason) and ruffled some pages, to the first one that had been written on.

My mouth dried instantaneously, my stomach lurched. Because suddenly, horrifyingly, I realised where I had seen this writing before. This even, beautiful writing. Letting the book slip from my lap, open to the first page reading RODERICH EDELSTEIN: A FIELD GUIDE, I lunged on my drawers and pulled one open, dragging out stacks and stacks of notes and cards and letters…

"Oh god!" my hand was shaking as I flicked through each one, I was convinced my face had never been so hot. Because every little inch of penmanship between these, and the book itself was the same, right down to the swirly, uncharacteristically gracious 'G's

…

_The subject uses passion fruit shampoo. I stole a bottle. It smells so fucking great, and is making me horny as hell. _

_…_

"YOU!" a whole hours worth of sitting an reading through stinging eyes a manual I could barely even bear to hold had cumulated in this explosive holler as I stormed down the dorm hall. "YOOOUUU!"

I slammed his door open, and much to my sick delight he appeared to still be sleeping.

"WAKE UP YOU FILTHY SICK BASTARD OF A MAN! I AM GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU!" the incriminating book was thrown with as much force as possible at his sleepy, ragamuffin head. "I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU FUCKING DEAD I-"

"'Woah 'what?" Shell-shocked, frowning in astonishment, Gilbert stared at me, looking less than great first thing in the morning. "Could you not princess? I only just 'woke up."

So I fair clapped him around the side of his head. Which was genuinely justified, I think, considering he was actually pure evil.

"AND HERES YOUR STUPID NOTES BCK TOO!" I threw the pocketfuls of cards I had collected at him as well, a rain of paper snowflakes lighting on his bed and in his hair and over his pillow. "AND YOUR CD! AND YOUR NOVELS! AND YOUR FUCKING _BRACELET!_" I tore the trinket off my wrist, the chain, though it seemed rather expensive and had caught many a time and survived, broke and I had no problem throwing at his face. "You bastard! You white haired little box-dye demon! I hate you! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

To prove my point, I yanked his duvet off him and tossed it on the floor (take that, feather filled comfort device) and stormed out.

But rather than go to my room to cry, where I knew he could follow me, I went to the bathroom, slumped against the wall in one of the toilet stalls, and sobbed until the echoes were orchestral.

…

_The subject has straight, naturally light brown hair that he styles and box-dyes himself. His explanation given to Antonio: I'm so naturally plain._

PART FOUR

"Roddy, can we-"

"No!" I stomped past, not even sparing a sideways glance. I didn't want to speak to him. I didn't want to even look at him, ever again. I hoped the asshole burned in hell.

The month since boxing day had been strenuous at best. At worst, they had been outright horrific, constituting constant pleading, a storm of messages, and a ceaseless barrage of fucking _cornflowers._ Bright blue cornflowers. I had taken to throwing them away at first (god knows where he had been getting them this season, come to think of it,) but they had taken forever to fade and die, and every time I had glanced at my bin I noticed them, overflowing onto the carpet. In the end, I cast them out the window. There was a fairly large pile outside there, and I felt a cruel base triumph every time I added another to the stack. It was like, watching it grow higher was making Gilbert feel worse and worse about the horrid thing he had done. It was like I was making him pay with hurt, to compensate for my humiliation.

Antonio must have noticed, because he glanced out the flower window every so often when he thought I wasn't looking. He must have heard Gilbert's side of the story too, but he remained pretty neutral about the whole thing actually, smiling at me, bringing me my homework… I respected him for that. And I appreciated it.

Gilbert however, was nowhere near as tolerable as his friend. Everywhere I went he was popping up, grabbing my wrist, begging to explain. But I didn't want to hear it. I just… No. Just no.

Finding out that of all the people in the world that could have been who had fancied me from affair, it was Gilbert, had pretty much been like my self esteem taking a wrecking ball to the crotch. It was like having my masculinity undermined, being told 'you are such a little bitch that even the most assholeish manly man wants to put it in you.' By the fucking Prime Minister. It was ghastly, humiliating, and I wasn't sure what was worse, unsure of whether or not it was like some great expensive joke or whether it was genuine. Because if t was a joke, after being so pseudo-sweet and lovely. Suddenly finding out it was not HURT. And of course, the unsure feeling meant I felt not only the horror of Gilbert wanting me, but the HURT of no-one wanting me so much that he was willing to make some cruel joke about it. And, oh yeah, this was GILBERT.

Fucking Gilbert,

I wish he would leave me alone.

"Why not?" he was starting to whine now, standing behinds me wrapped in a towel (no wonder he had been always going to the showers when I had! These things made sense now. They also made my skin crawl) and practically begging with tearful looking eyes to give in. "Please?"

Over my shoulder I studied him, unable to see the same Gilbert I had before. This Gilbert was not haughty and obnoxious and ruggedly handsome. Not in the least. This Gilbert was teary eyed, zitted and awkward, like a scrawny child. Although he hadn't changed at all physically, suddenly these minor imperfections glared horrendously at me. He had lost his shine, he had degraded totally, to some pathetic, looser stalker and frankly he made me sick.

"Because no, I don't want to talk to you. Now if you don't mind, I need a shower. Get out, I'm not taking my clothes off in front of you."

He sucked a sharp breath of what seemed like hurt, and stepped toward me.

"Don't!" I moved away swiftly, face bright pink, heart lifting irrationally. "Don't come near me. I'm having a shower." I looked around the bathroom, hoping that there was someone else here to see what was happening, but there was not. I would just have to stand there awkwardly until he had gotten dressed and gone by myself, in a corner.

"You're still dressed."

"I'm sure you're pissed about that, pervert." I huffed and dumped my stuff on the bench closest to the urinals and furthest away from him.

"Man, I don't give a fuck if you're naked or not."

I scoffed, he carried on.

"You're still beautiful either way."

Fucking cunt!

I spluttered, reached into the urinal beside me and grabbed the urinal cake to fling at him before realising I had actually just touched a urinal cake. Gross.

"Don't say such things to me!"

He didn't seem bothered by my missile, stepping aside and letting it sin across the smooth tile floor of the bathroom.

"'Why not? It's no use pretending now."

"Well maybe you shouldn't have pretended at first, and we wouldn't be in this mess!" frustrated, wanting a fucking shower, I wrapped my towel roughly around myself and began stripping off beneath it… "But it's too late for that, Captain creep."

He coughed awkwardly.

"So are you saying if I had been more up front about it at first you 'would have been a little more accepting?"

I hesitated with stripping my pants, standing awkwardly on one leg, holding a towel with one hand and removing my trousers with the other.

"No I am not saying that! Not at all!"

"So your problem isn't 'with the guide it's 'with me?"

"Yes. No! Not- that isn't…" I screwed up my face in frustration and resisted the overwhelming urge to kill him. But no, I am a gentleman, and gentlemen are collected and gracious at all times. Three deep breaths had me removing my trousers completely and straightening up.

"No." I managed in a commendably calm voice. "My problem is with both of you. First, you specifically, because you are a heathen clod, and second, the so called 'guide' because it is a horrid, twisted thing to do. Stalking someone. And anyone with half a brain should know that."

"It ' not stalking it was making scientific observations."

"It was pissing _stalking_, Gilbert." I turned away from him, tightened my towel, and slipped off my underwear. "You looked at my privates and you stole my pyjamas and watched me sleep. It was blatant, common as muck stalking. And it's disgusting."

"'Well what else am I supposed to do?" he was beginning to sound a little pissed off now, which he had no right to be. "Pretend like I'm helpless? Lie down and accept that nothing I do 'will ever be good enough for you, and resign myself to not having an ounce of hope that you could even let me have you in my _fantasies_? That's cruel of you. I knew you were a stuck up brat, but I never thought you could be so heartless."

"Heartless?" I scoffed, not quite believing what I was hearing. "Okay… whatever you say then, freak."

"… Ouch."

"Your ego could do with some downsizing." Done getting naked, I left my clothes on the bench and headed to the shower stalls. He followed after me, though he had already showered.

"Roderich, 'what do you 'want from me?"

"I want you to stop stalking me,"

"I 'wasn't-"

"I want you to stop thinking about me,"

"How can I-"

"And I want you to get out of here so I can have a shower."

I glared at him, he glared at me. After about four minutes of glaring, it became evident. He wasn't going anywhere. So even more incised than before, I jerked the shower nozzle on and stepped in, still wrapped in my towel. I had to remind myself to take deep breaths, and turned my back to him. Almost instantaneously, he spoke.

"It's not that easy though, is it? I don't suppose you know 'what its like, to be utterly besotted with someone, and not even have the guts to say it to their face in case they shoot you down and stomp all over you with their pointy 'I'm better than you' boots. Mister eloquent has no clue of 'what it means to be shy."

"Gilbert you are _not_ shy."

"Maybe I'm just a good actor."

I rolled my eyes and tried as best I could to lather myself up and scrub beneath a soaking, clinging towel. I refused to turn around, not even after five whole minutes had passed, and I was convinced he had left. I loosened the towel a little though, letting it slide down my back so I could soap it up. My eyes fluttered closed and I sighed. The silence in the space now was complete and relaxing, a welcome shift, my shoulders sloped, and I was just getting ready to drop my modesty completely. I wasn't a complete fool though, and spared glances over my shoulder to make sure…

"Ah!" I jumped, because he was still there, leaning at the wall, head tipped to the side and his eyes fixed vastly on my back. "Gilbert! Get out! I thought you had gone!"

"Did you hear me leave?"

"I didn't hear you stay."

He cocked his eyebrow, and ran his thumb thoughtfully along his lower lip.

"Look, Roderich, can you just listen to me for a sec?" he stepped forward, removing his towel, and immediately I snapped my head around so I didn't have to look at his nakedness. He had no shame, he had no shame…

"I just 'wanted to say that after a month of stressing and panicking and feeling awful, I've realised that 'what I did was maybe a little bit dumb. But I'm not sorry. Because I really, genuinely like you, and this 'was the best 'way I could go about it." the rustle of towel being folded, I clenched my fists, letting the water from the showerhead run down over my face.

"I'm an awkward guy, but I'm not all bad. I think I'm a decent person, and I think you should give me a chance. I'm not going to stop pursuing you until you do."

His footsteps were audible this time, as he made his way over to his pile of clothes.

"You might think I'm a creep, or a 'weirdo, but I'm not. Not at all. Maybe I'm a little arcane but I think that of both of us, you're the strangest. You're the one who despite it all still let me stand here 'while you slipped your towel. I can see your ass right now."

My heart jumped in my chest, but rather than give him the satisfaction of leaping to pull the sliding wet cloth sliming its way down the back of my legs back up (in my shock at seeing him, I had loosed one of the corners, and the fabric pulled by the weight of the water had revealed a little more than I had intended) I remained stationary, blushing all over my face and the back of my neck.

When I was sure he had gone, and still blushing, still with heartbeat racing, I stepped out of the shower, I noticed he had left his dry towel on the bench beside my clothes after he had changed for me to use. It was folded messily, but carefully placed, and it smelled strongly of that goddamned perfume he wore.

Grumbling under my breath, I used it. But I didn't like it.

…

_The subject tells Antonio so much, I worry that I won't be able to fit it all in this book. He is in love with me… he has to be! He doesn't know it's me, sure, but I have him. He's mine, in heart, and that's all that matters._

_…_

About a week later, I came into my dorm room with my violin case in hand to what looked like a tornado of clothes, books, papers and various odds and ends had struck it. A flurry of clothes were being thrown into piles by the door, a suitcase was open on the bed. Antonio appeared to be the culprit, on his hands and knees with his ass in the air and one arm stuck all the way under his bed. His nails clicked on the floor as he searched for something. I couldn't say what.

"Um…" I edged around the mess and sat down on the end of my bed. "Qué?"

"I'm packing my stuff." He sat up, frowning at whatever he had pulled out from under his bed (it looked like a sock…) "I'm leaving in three days you know."

Well, I think it's perfectly fair, given the circumstances, that I slipped off the edge of my bed in shock.

"What did you say?"

"I said I'm packing my bags." He shrugged, threw the sock aside and resumed hunting under his bed. "Hey, you haven't seen my cell phone have you?"

"…" it was on the windowsill, but I was to busy being mortified to point that out.

"Okay then, that's cool too." He sighed, and stood up. I regarded him as though I head never seen a human being before, and oblivious, he carried on hunting, digging through piles of towels and underwear.

"Are you speaking English or did I just wake up fluent in Spanish this morning?"

"Oh, a little of both." He grinned at me and gave up hunting too, sitting down on the edge of his bed, opposite me. "No, I'm speaking English."

"What? Why? You can't speak English!"

He frowned. "Yeah I can… I can also speak Portuguese and Italian."

… What? Just… What?

"How… how long…?"

"I was fluent when I got here." A broad grin, as though he felt the whole thing was a great joke, I felt the first stirrings of rage and that feeling I call 'wanting to crawl into a hole and die' stir in the pit of my stomach.

"Then why…"

"You never asked." He gazed around the room, clearly pleased with himself, and his gaze lighted on his phone precariously perched by the cracked open cornflower window. "Oh, there it is." He grabbed it, and immediately began to text.

Well, I wasn't quite sure how I was supposed to feel about that.

Betrayed? Of course! Humiliated, yup, furious, you betcha. Because oh my god… this guy, if he could really speak English so well as he claimed, had spent a whole five months listening to me telling him EVERYTHING, all my deepest darkest secrets and thoughts, and on top of that now that I thought about it he knew about the 'guide' and oh my god what if he told Gilbert? I swayed a little where I sat and tried not to spew. Suddenly, I felt very, very ill.

"You spoke English this whole time, but you still let me tell you all those things?" I fisted my hands in the bedspread, wondering if I might cry but hoping I wouldn't because that would be utterly embarrassing. On top of all the other embarrassing stuff that had happened today. "Why? Oh my god Antonio I thought you were my friend!" I stood up, grabbed my pillow, and brought it around the side of his head. "I trusted you, you big Spanish idiot! And you totally betrayed my trust! How _could _you?"

Oh crap. I was going to cry…

And the pressure of the whole last month crashed down on me, the loss of my last glimmer of hope in romance, the stress of being ceaselessly harassed by the worlds biggest creep, the horror of realising that the man who I had secretly considered my deaf-mute best friend was actually a lying betrayer…

It wasn't fair. My life wasn't fair. I collapsed against my mattress and started sobbing like a girl, and Antonio clearly hadn't been anticipating this. He dropped his phone and gasped softly, distressed.

"Hey Roderich? What? Are you okay?" the bed creaked when he lowered himself onto it beside me. "What's up man? Don't cry! Why are you crying?"

I turned my back to him, huffing, ignoring the hand that fell on my shoulder. I hated his voice, I realised for the first time. I hadn't noticed when he spoke Spanish, because it suited the jumping catch and jumble of words. But when he spoke English, it bubbled badly, heavy in the wrong places but barely noticeably so. Nasal, oddly formed 'R's, and fucking deep. Annoyingly so.

"Are you upset because you never got to talk to me properly?"

"No!" shitty, I shoved him off my bed and jumped off, storming for the door. I didn't have anywhere to go to, but I didn't let that get in the way. "I'm shitty at you because you are a two faced lying asshole, and I hope your plane crashes on your way home!"

I left him with that, and spent the rest of the night on the sofa in the library downstairs. It was cold, lonely, and uncomfortable, and I spent the whole night crying, and lonely, and longing for a hug.

…

_The subject doesn't like bass.._

…

So that made two boys at the school I wasn't talking to, both of which I was living with and both of them running around me like pathetic imbeciles, trying to catch me and convince me with weak apologies. Oh, but I was too pissed to be placated.  
>Way too pissed.<br>Antonio got to me first. Well, of course he did. I had to go to my room at some point, I couldn't just camp out in the hallway for the rest of the semester. I might get raped by Francis.  
>I took a hesitant but esteemed step inside my room and confronted my cursed roommate. His green eyes no longer promised security and secrecy but instead made me want to gouge them out of his head. Fucking liar. I walked over to my side of the room, refusing to glance at his face, and dumped my satchel on my bed with my back facing him, completely ignoring his existence. Well, at least I was until he spoke.<br>"I'm not going to apologize, so stop avoiding me like you think I will." I froze. Well, that was unexpected. I turned around with fury embedded deep within my brown eyes that seethed with loathing for the man, my face contorted in the most disgusted guise I think I could ever muster.  
>"Excuse me?"<br>"I have my loyalties, and my first loyalty was to my best friend..." He paused, as if unsure of what to say next. "But you are my friend too and I'm sorry for hurting you, but I'm not sorry for doing it. I would do it again in heartbeat if I so pleased." Hard, bright green eyes fell on my face. "Understand?"  
>I was shocked by his forwardness. It was such a vast contrast to what I've been living with for the past couple of months. I was shocked…but taken.<br>"I…" I blinked and sat down in my desk chair, not understanding how I got there but sat down nonetheless, swallowing the ultimatum he just gave me. "I suppose I do, yeah."  
>"Good, because we need to have an actual, serious conversation, for once. Okay?"<br>"I uh…" I had slept poorly the night before and I could hardly form coherent sentences, let alone participate in actual conversation. I just sat there dumbly, letting him chat. He spoke very fast, almost as fast as he spoke Spanish with a smear of wild accent. I sighed and settled on an easy answer. "Okay, fine."  
>"It's about Gilbert," He said. I woke up very suddenly and stood, hands raised. I could feel chime rushing up my throat at the topic but immediately swallowing it down, not wanting to embarrass myself in front of my arch-nemesis's friend by puking right here and now.<br>"Nope. Not a chance. No way in hell." I did not want to hear a single thing he wanted to say on that topic.  
>"Roderich-"<br>"I don't want to talk about Gilbert, okay? I hate him. I hate everything about him, and I don't ever want to talk about him. Ever." Ensuring my conviction with glare. However, it didn't seem to appease Antonio because he continued without backing down.  
>"You don't have to." Suddenly, I was pushed down forcibly in the chair by hands on either of my shoulders. "I'm going to talk, and you can listen. No, you're going to listen and listen close, okay?" I wasn't quite sure what he was asking, so I neither nodded nor shook my head. Instead, I sat there dumbly as he tossed short licks of dark hair from his forehead. I wondered if he was working up some kind of balls to say whatever it was he was trying to say because he was frowning, thinking very hard. It was nice to know that he wasn't as hard-ass as his words have been.<br>"I would like to apologize on Gilbert's behalf, if he hasn't done this already. What he did was, I admit, a little dumb, but you have to believe me when I say that he did it with the truest, most affectionate intentions. Okay?" Stony faced, I glared at him, refusing to say anything. He sighed, but carried on.  
>"Roderich, do you know that when I met Gilbert, the first thing he ever said to me was, 'Don't look at him like that, he's mine'?" Still, no reaction. "And all because I liked the sweater you were wearing. He talked about you all the time. About your hair, your smile, the way you walked." My glare intensified. "When anyone said your name, he smiled in this special way I can't even describe in words. He loves you, Roderich. He really, truly loves you." His expression turned sombre in that moment which caught my attention. "And you never even looked at him. Not once. All he wanted to do was something sweet for you. He's a sweet guy. He's shy, kind of dumb but he's really, genuinely sweet...I think you should give him a chance." This pushed me over the edge. I struggled against my restraints but Antonio wasn't going anywhere. I settled on spitting venom at him, instead.<br>"You think you're going to sway me with guilt? You've got a lot of nerve! Why should I?" I yelled.  
>"Because he's also very stubborn, just like you." I blushed at that, but immediately hid it by my deathly glare. "And he's not going to stop until you relent." Antonio nodded curtly, and released my shoulders. I stood up immediately in defiance. "That young man knows everything about you that I do. Every single thing. All of your crazy intents, all of your fears and all of your hopes. You shouldn't be so careless you know, chatting away like that. Sometimes, I felt like a fucking cassette tape diary. He even knows about your little sleep predicament." This confused me.<br>"My sleep pre-"  
>"You change your sheets three times a week, and we both know its because you think you are too good to whack off."<p>

You fucking bastard. I turned red with embarrassment and was _so_ ready to grab and axe and lop of his head while smiling. "But you know what, Gilbert likes that about you. Gilbert actually likes the neurotic little quirks that make you a stuck up ponce and I don't think you will ever find anyone else who thinks that its 'cute' when you call people 'gutter snipes'." Antonio stepped back and swung his arms back and forth. I noticed for the first time that the room had been tidied very scrupulously since I was here last, his suitcase was neatly organised at the end of his bed, almost completely packed. It made me a little sad but I squelched that immediately.  
>"Give him a chance, Roderich," He said. I sniffed indignantly. The floorboards creaked under his feet as he walked across the room and started picking at the remaining sticky blu-tack, where all his photos had been stuck to his now ominously spacious wall. My hands clenched loosely, and I swallowed the anxious bitterness on my tongue.<br>"You're his best friend," I told him shortly. "You have to say great things about him. You're like a bloody advertiser…trying to promote the asshole." He just shrugged. I wanted to whack him so bad, you have no idea.  
>"Well, yeah. But the fact that I do that, even though I know all the bad shit about him too…means something right?" I narrowed my eyes and thought about that for a second. No way in hell was this a surrender in any way. It wasn't.<br>"Okay, then." Far away, the school bell echoed. I was missing first class, but it was only physics. I actually felt a little bit happy missing that damned class for once. "If you know everything about Gilbert, you can sit down and answer some questions for me." Now it was Antonio's turn to be surprised.  
>"Questions?" He asked.<br>"Yes, questions, you dolt. Now, sit down and if you so much as indicate to him that I inquired about him, I will end you. Very badly." His hands lifted in a humorous attempt of surrender.  
>"Whatever…"<p>

I cleared my throat nervously, crossed my legs in my chair, and began.

…

_The subject can't sing. He really honest to god cannot. He tries, when he plays his little piano, but god… im surprised he hasn't broken the music block windows._

_…_

Not four days have gone by and it was at least the hundredth time I realized that I missed Antonio. It was incredibly lonely here; quiet, cold, and talking to an empty bed made me feel strangely upset inside. Things were still…well, things were still awkward. Gilbert no longer stopped by to talk with him (no shit) so I saw him only in classes. No longer did I come back to a peaceful room humming with the sweetness of fluent guitar. I could, however, practice my violin without having bits of eraser thrown at me, and I didn't slip on discarded magazines when I walked in the door. But I still ached for my lost companion.  
>So, to pass the endless stretch of time between classes, I spent the evenings at my desk, crouched over a 1B5 exercise book, making my own list. A list of things about Gilbert. Who's the stalker creep now?<br>Feeling perversely smug, I tapped my pen on the table and ruffled through the five pages of information proudly. It wasn't exactly a users manual but it was pretty good for a guy who just wanted petty revenge.  
>GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT, the heading on the first page read, with a list of basic, shallow details that followed; things like birthday, physical appearance… nothing particularly fascinating. The things I already knew about him. Silly, obvious things that didn't really matter but was necessary to fulfil that stalker intent I was going for. However, it was the next few pages of things that Antonio had told me, things that when I thought about, I found myself hesitating:<p>

_Gilbert wants to be a astrophysicist, because he loves the thought of being tiny in comparison to the endless universe  
>He loves birds<br>He cried during 'The Notebook' _

What had originally been a desire to discover something to hold him against him had turned into a collection of facts about what, under the surface, appeared to be a big fat marshmallow of a boy who to destroy or bully seemed…cruel. It discomforted me, as much as having the information made me feel triumphant, it made me anxious and twitchy. I suppose I never really saw Gilbert as a person before, so much as I saw him as an obnoxious trailer trash egomaniac.  
><em><br>He grew up in Hamburg.  
>He loves lemon sorbet with raspberries.<br>He drinks beer by the gallon, but never seems to get drunk._

The longer I sat there and stared at it, the less sense it made. The more I thought, the more uncomfortable I felt. With my last bit of sanity, I closed the book and put it back in my top drawer of my desk before going to bed, not forgetting to steal a glance at it before I willed myself to sleep.

…

_Today the subject cut his chin while shaving. There was blood everywhere, and I don't think he lokes blood because he blanched horrorshow, and almost fainted. Serves him right, the hairlessness of him is somewhat unfair._

_…_

Gilbert had been on my mind for a good 16 hours a day lately; in class, at breakfast, during piano lessons (much to the ire of my tutor…). Every waking moment of the day I was on my toes, looking out, trying to spot him the crowd and immediately ducking, if he caught sight of me. At night, I tossed and turned, unable to banish him from my thoughts even while I slept. It fucking pissed me off how much of my brain was occupied by his smug face.  
>More than once had I found myself standing half naked in front of the mirror, studying my reflection trying to put a finger on whatever it was that he even saw in me. I wasn't that great, actually. I've always had a problem with my appearance which led me to have a serious complex about looking good in front of everyone. I was weirdly tall for my age, my hair was limp and straight and I had to work tirelessly with it every morning to get it to sit right. My eyes were a funny colour and shape, not to mention the beauty mark on my chin that was distracting rather than attractive. Oh and I almost forgot, I wore glasses…and Gilbert was right. I couldn't grow facial hair if I tried.<br>Beneath all the nice clothes and delicate hair styling, I was disgustingly plain.  
>Whereas Gilbert, I thought while pulling my clothes back on, was of that species of humans that were just repulsively handsome, and it was the type of handsomeness that people cream over.<p>

On that thought, I flicked to the back of the exercise book and pulled out a wad of photos from between the cover and back page. Antonio had left them behind, and most of them were pictures of Francis posing and pissing around with the camera. A couple of them though, showed Gilbert in the background, lounging on his bed and doing what could only have been his physics homework.  
>He looked great in his boxers and wife beater, body broad and trim. The more I stared at him, the more I noticed it, his smile, his neat white teeth, the way he pushed his fringe aside, his dark delicately shaped eyebrows, mismatching his hair in a striking, illogically erotic sort of way. Sucking my teeth, I clapped the book shut and stood, face suddenly hot. Thoughts like that had to stop right now. Imperatively. Because that was a big fat no-no. I moved to grab my violin and set it up for playing, flinging it under my chin so hurriedly and firmly, it clicked and hurt my jaw. I caressed my chin soothingly for awhile before I turned back to my music.<br>I was only three warbling bars into free-styling an unknown tune when I heard a heavy fist fell on my door. I jumped suddenly, stopping my music playing with an abrupt scree.  
>"Who is it?" I asked, dropping my instrument a little too carelessly on the bed and edging toward the door. "Hang on a second!" I shouted. "Let me just get decent." I grabbed my bathrobe off the back of my computer chair, and pulled it over my underwear and my 'I Heart Vienna' t-shirt. "Hello?" I pulled open the door and froze, thinking to myself that I should have guessed. Really. But I didn't, and so, here I was…<br>"Hey." Gilbert smiled sheepishly. He had that weird girl piercing back in again. I hadn't seen that for ages. "I, uh…can I come in?" I wanted to scoff and his audacity.  
>"No." Pissed, I went to shut the door but he stuck his foot in the jamb, and despite the fact it was probably hurting to buggary, he didn't move it. I was tempted to bang my door against his foot with all my might but he stopped me by talking.<br>"I didn't come here to apologize, this is something else. It 'won't take long, I promise." He laced his fingers rigidly in front of his chest and, for a second, I thought he was begging, but instead he did this weird meshy thing, as if he was anxious, and it was almost, _almost_ cute.  
>Almost.<br>My eyes narrowed as I gave him a once over, head to toe, and with a warning look I stepped backward, opening the door and letting him in.  
>"Hurry up, I'm going to bed soon." He looked at me incredulously.<br>"At seven forty?" I glared at him.  
>"Goddamnit, say what you want to say and then leave!" I slammed the door behind him and turned, folding my arms over my chest, not giving an inch of cooperation. He chewed his lip, and sighed.<br>"Okay, well, here." He held up something in my direction. "I thought I should give you these back." It was then I noticed he had something in a plastic bag around his wrist. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want me to have them anymore and well…I wouldn't feel right keeping them." He shook the bag a little until I took it. He began to fiddle a little with his piercing. "It's just, um…your top and some other things I-don't open it 'while I'm here!" He knocked my hands from the knot, face suddenly very tomato red. "I…am going now. Open it 'when I'm gone." He stepped back toward the door and cast me one last complicated look over his shoulder. "Um…yeah. Bye." He rushed out the door. I could hear his shuffling outside my door and heard his door shut close behind him.  
>I was left alone again, with a bag of stuff that I had a strange feeling about, an itchy warmth in the base of my tummy. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, I realised uneasily, dropping the bag on my bed and sitting so I could pull it open with my fingernails. It was a familiar one by now though, and oddly enough it didn't fade or shift when I opened the bag and the contents were revealed. I didn't even feel angry or distressed.<br>My singlet, an exercise book that had gone missing _last year_ and even a pair of underwear. Seriously. Underwear. I sincerely wanted to burn them and bury the ashes, to show some type of disgust, but all I felt in the instant was slight shame that my knickers were in such poor state. That's not my fault, of course. I just really hate paying for new ones when a bit of stitching can mend them up and extend their lifespan tenfold.  
>And then at the bottom of the bag…<br>The Book.  
>He had long since redone the white 'Property of Admiral Awesome' on the cover, but besides that, it hadn't changed an iota since I had held it last. Still heavy, still slightly fuzzed around the edges of the pages. There was a post-it attached to the cover, again apologizing, and a little cornflower (surprise, surprise) squashed in the inside. Sighing, I stuck the post it on the top of my side table, and set the cornflower on top of The Book when I lay it on the magazine-free window sill.<br>Very well then. At least I had my singlet back.

…

_The subject seems obsessed with cakes and sweets. In class he sits there eating burnt almonds and at break he eats cakes with cream. He drinks flavoured coffee, and everything about him smells like vanillia_

PART FIVE

February brought with it a fresh bluster of snow and that anxious, salt tasting feeling you get when you know you don't have a date for the upcoming holiday, Valentine's Day, or any ones of the ones before/after that, come mention it.  
>In the cafeteria at breaks, boys and girls were pairing off one by one, (or in Francis's case, twelve by one) and slowly but surely the numbers of boys seated at the 'singles' table dwindled, edging closer and closer to a grand total of me, and Ivan the boy who seemed to give off a rather terrifying aura despite his perpetual smile. That being said, he had turned down both his sisters several times as Valentine's Day dates, and told me quite genially when I looked at him in astonishment that it wasn't because he didn't find them attractive, it was just that he wanted to meet new people.<p>

That, and one of them was psychotic.  
>He obviously didn't realise that I was looking at him like that because the notion of being asked for ones 'hand' on Valentine's by one's sister frankly made me a little ill.<br>Unfortunately though, come the ninth of February when Ivan and I were sitting in silence in the 'rejection' corner of the large, bustling room, even he found himself a date in the form of a very shy, very cute blonde haired first year with glasses and lovely eyes.  
>"Um…Excuse me?"<br>I noticed the child first, looking up from my pottle of low fat boysenberry (erm, poisionberry,) yogurt to see him hovering anxiously by Ivan's shoulder, tiny hand reaching to tug at the scarf around his neck.  
>Ivan tore his eyes away from his book, (Marxisim for Dumbies: Extended Version,) and frowned at the kid. He looked at him for a few seconds before he pasted his famous smile on his face once again.<br>"Hello."  
>"Uh…hi." The stranger coloured right over his face, his eyes much more interested on the hem of his shirt. It was sort of cute, actually. In a way that would've pissed me off if I wasn't being contented with a packet of yogurt. Ivan blinked a few times, bewildered.<br>"Can I help-"  
>"Y-youdontknowmebutmyn-nameism-matthewwilliamsandwillyoum-beingmyv-v-v-valentine?" He said all of this very fast, and very shakily. Softly too, as though his voice had a volume limit that he rather desperately did not want to push.<br>I dropped my yoghurt in disbelief. Ivan…this kid was asking out Ivan. The weird, big boned guy who never really did anything but sit there and look apathetic. Ivan wasn't even attractive! His eyes were too baby, his face too soft and plain and here he was getting a bloody date from a stranger…  
>Well, needless to say I felt a little bitter about that. Maybe extremely bitter. I mean, what about me? Surely some girl out there would want to ask me… I looked around as if to solve my own dilemma but it just worsened my mood. For some reason, girls glared at me when I passed. I had never noticed before, but every single female I even got close to lately looked liable to spit poision in my face. It was quite concerning.<br>Back to Ivan though and his delightful little predicament. He seemed just as startled as me, small lips parted in a shocked 'oh!', fair lashes fluttering in disbelief.  
>"What?"<br>"Do you want to be my Valen-" The boy repeated again but stopped suddenly, bowing his head in humiliation. "I'm sorry, I d-don't know your name but…"  
>"… Are you being serious?" His eyes scanned the boy's body; slender in the willowy graceful way of a gymnast or dancer. The cascade of luminous blonde, the soft almost opaque skin of his flustered cheeks and his clothes, understated, and handsome. Clearly, he was experiencing the same disbelief as I was. "A pretty thing like you?"<br>The junior almost fell sideways in surprise.  
>"You think… I'm p-pretty?"<br>Well, that was my cue to leave.  
>Envious for obscure reasons, feeling a strange sense of non-specific anger towards nothing in particular, I stood and left my yogurt behind me for the lovebirds to share, if the mood took them. Maybe I would go to the music room and play for a while. The piano, after all, will never leave me. Or give me evil glares when I pass by…<br>Unlike the girl with long brown hair in pigtails who just slammed into me.  
>I shrunk a little against the wall and kept on walking, oddly self-conscious. When I reached the door of the cafeteria, I was able to slip out and break into a fast paced scurry down the hall. Those crazy, unsophisticated beasts didn't deserve to date me, anyway.<p>

…

_The subject has the sort of photogenicity one would expect of a god or a supermodel. Its not fair, but extremely fortunate for me-_

_…_

I leapt out of my seat, book falling to the ground and landing with a very obnoxious slap, still open to the page I had been formally reading.  
>"You..." A female voice I didn't recognise. I stared at her, a mediocre looking thing with ash blonde hair and blue eyes. "...are a whore bitch. And I hope you die."<p>

I looked at her, unamused.  
>Charming.<br>"Excuse me?" A little more than mildly put out by this turn of events, I adjusted my glasses and regarded her as coldly as I possibly could.  
>"You heard me, you poofter. Little mister 'oh-lets-ruin-it-for-everyone-else-shall-we-just-because-im-a-pathetic-looser-who-fucks-my-violin."<p>

It was the worst impression of me ever. Like, ever ever.  
>I opened and closed my mouth a few times, speechless, unable to find a comeback for that or string a intelligible sentence together for that matter. I would've laughed at her if I wasn't so utterly pissed.<br>"You what?"  
>She tossed her hair to the side as if to erase my existence from her mind and strode past me, leaving me alone and frankly bemused. Events like this were becoming disturbingly commonplace. Grumbling, I bowed over in my seat, intending to pick up my book and continue reading. If I hadn't, since August, become accustomed to Gilbert's hands appearing out of nowhere and 'hovering' all over my stuff, I would have been surprised when a pale hand darted forth first, nipping it in the tail of the spine.<br>"Hey." He grinned at me, dropping my book open on my desk. His smile was the same-as-same-as. Cocky, shit eating, generally irritating and above all oddly nostalgic, seeing as I hadn't seen him do that since Christmas. "Klutz."  
>"Go die, Gilbert." I crossed my legs tightly and drew my book to my chest. "Please."<br>"Oh, hell no, princess. I have way too much to live for." Not paying a single attention to my face, he dropped into the seat next to me. Rolling my eyes, I resigned and resumed reading my book.  
>"Do what you want. Just don't touch me," I warned.<br>"Touch you?" He inquired lightly, the mock innocence in his tone more than threatening in a soft-edged way. "Like how? Like this?" He jabbed me sharply in the shoulder with his pointer finger. "Or like this?" He scraped two nails lightly up the side of my neck. I closed my eyes tightly, counting from ten to one slowly in my head. "Or how about like this?" I jumped straight to my feet when a hand brushed the side of my thigh under the desk, face exploding into frantic red.  
>"You cut that out right now, Gilbert, or-"<br>"Mister Edelstein, sit down this minute!" The teacher's voice cracked loudly. I winced, feeling embarrassed and guilty I made a scene in the middle of class, and sunk back into my seat. The hand had moved but I could still feel the ghost of it through my uniform trousers.  
>"I hate you." I mouthed at him. He cocked an eyebrow, but made no response nor move to open his textbook. I could feel him watching me for the better half of the class which made the hair on the back of my neck stand on edge.<p>

…

_The subject looks great in purple… _

_…_

The clock on the wall marched long, painful minutes forward, like a soldier with a shot knee and foot cramps who trudged along cursing at every step he took. The heavy, tedious atmosphere in the room weighed heavily on my shoulders alongside his staring and also, concerningly, the furious sideways glares of every female in the vicinity. Beyond the fogged windows of my school-time prison, it was beginning to snow again and I found myself thinking about what would happen if we got snowed in the school. I wouldn't be able to make it to the dorm that night to sleep. I wouldn't have my toothbrush with me, and that thought was a worrying one, but at least it was warm in here, and there was a piano in the music room/basement downstairs. Absent mindedly, I started nibbling on the end of my pen, and I began to loose myself in various thoughts and ponderings. Things were all very peaceful in my mind, and comfy that I didn't even notice the teacher stop talking and request everyone to take out their books nor the rest of the class starting until a ruler came down across my tabletop and tore me from reflections on what life would be like if it snowed sugar.  
>"Are you done with the questions on page thirty six then, young sir?" I blinked a couple times. When did class start?<br>"Huh?" Everyone in the class stopped to stare at me and I could feel my face burn.  
>"The questions, are you done? Or are you just sitting there mooning into space for fun? I swear, Valentine's Day, every year, this happens. Boys who can't control their sex drives for a second..."<br>"Are you going to ask the teacher on a date then, Roddy?" A jeer from the back of the class shouted, laughter erupting in the classroom. I hissed softly, my face red from embarrassment. I turned around to see who had said it, death glares emanating form my eyes. I knew I would never live that down…a stab of resentment toward Gilbert for that one then.  
>"Actually, Miss..." Gilbert waved his hand in front of her, the white sheet of filled questions clutched inside, his hand crumpling it a little as he did so. "...'we 'were 'working together." He shook the page in her face one last time, earning a glare from the teacher. "And we are done." He passed the paper full of equations over, and the teacher shot him a suspicious look, but let it go.<br>"I see…" One last warning glare to me, she took the paper and stalked up the row of desks to the front of the class. I watched her, embarrassed and irritated. I turned my poisonous glare towards the origin of all my suffering.  
>"What are you doing?" I hit Gilbert stealthily with the back of my hand and whispered furiously. "What was that for?"<br>"I 'was saving your ass, princess. No need to thank me or anything."

"The thought never occurred to me! I don't need saving from you!" Flustered and feeling oddly hot right down in my bones, despite the cold weather outside, I turned away and folded my arms across my chest. "And you shouldn't lie about things like that! Its not-"  
>"Shhh…" He sunk in his chair casual-like, arm draping not at all surreptitiously around the back of my own. "No need to get your knickers in a knot."<p>

I gave his arm the nastiest, most filthiest look I could muster at the moment. How utterly blatantly bone-headed of him! How repulsively blunt and perverted.  
>"Give it up, Gilbert. I still think you're a creep and I will never, ever even consider-"<br>"Give 'what up? Consider 'what?" He gazed at me straight faced, his expression totally obnoxious and feigning ignorance. I felt my ears prickle.  
>"…Nothing." Blushing, I too settled back in my chair trying to ignore him. It was hard though, his arm pressing against my back was warm and I didn't miss the way he brushed his fingers lightly over my shoulder, caressing my skin through the fabric of my sweater.<br>As if I wouldn't notice.  
>Someone threw a pen at the back of my head, the object whirling passed my faces, missing it by mere inches. It clattered onto the table in front of me, skidding against the cold tabletop, halting just before the edge of the desk. Carol White, the nametag on the pen read, and suddenly I understood very clearly why, when I turned around, every female face in the room was turned to me, their vicious eyes focused very intently on the arm that wanted to coil its way around my shoulder.<br>I had never considered that Gilbert might be popular with the ladies before but now I realised it...and I could certainly understand why. He was good looking, confident, clever, and was a (albeit messed up) hopeless romantic underneath all the bullshit. The one thing I simply couldn't understand was how, him rejecting a grand total of seventeen date requests for valentines, was the least bit my fault. It all seemed very petty to me, and very bitchy. However, so much was only to be expected when it came to private school girls in their rich, lavish daddy's-baby-girl world.  
>And because of this, I spent much of dinner time staring at Gilbert; the way he ate, the way he laughed, the way him and Francis were always carrying on, even when in the boys only café and not surrounded by any female presence whatsoever, they still seemed to have a seductive air about them. It was weird, looking at him like that, all pompous and full of himself when, not weeks ago, I had seen him plead and beg before me. When I had heard his voice, on the verge of tears and listened as he apologized over and over for totally unexpected and out of character things, I would never have believed he was capable of such emotions until it happened in my face. I was pretty sure no one has ever seen the almighty Gilbert in his lesser glory and pitiful state. I felt my mouth turn upwards in a small smile.<br>Maybe I was a little honoured.  
>I thought about the other things too, things that Antonio had said in his thick lopsided voice. Just when I was about to zone out, the subject of my thoughts looked up, as if sensing that I was thinking about him maybe, he smiled at me, and before I could help it I had smiled back. Of course, I put a stop to that immediately and turned to face my casserole again, wishing I could just hop on the plate and forever disappear in an ocean of milgey off-maroon foodstuff that probably was not from any quadrapaedil animal despite what the menu told me.<br>Why did he have to be so…infatuating, was the only word I could think of. It was like he was getting under my skin without even doing anything, always there, not paying me any more or less attention than before the incident. Was he pretending the whole thing hadn't happened? How could he? When I had The Book in my room by my bed, two years worth of disturbing pseudo-worship recorded in mechanical pen. Had he gotten over me? Or was he just being an asshole again, trying to make me feel shit for turning him down? Come to think of it, he hadn't even actually formally asked me to date him! Not that I would have if he did, but still. It was weird. Why didn't he do that? Didn't he want to date me? Usually, when you like someone, it sort of entails…well dating. And with Valentine's Day coming up, it was amazing he hadn't tried it on already. It was…all very ominous.  
>Out of nowhere, the thought of Gilbert and I walking arm and arm down a snowlined avenue filled my mind. He looked wonderful, in a big, black coat and red scarf. I looked wonderful too. We looked wonderful together, and the snow swirling and twirling around our ankles glittered, and the shop fronts we passed glowed, and everyone smiled at us when we walked straight by.<br>My hand on my fork tightened, white knuckled fingers tried as hard as possible to hold the utensil steady to no avail.  
>My heartbeat…why was it so fast? Why was I even thinking such things? Why… why… When I looked up again to question said person, Gilbert was gone. It took me a shocked second or two to notice that he had stood up and was making his way to the large swinging doors at the far end of the dining room.<br>The date was February twelfth. I had lost my appetite, and I had made up my mind. God have mercy on my soul.  
>I leapt to my feet and left my half eaten meal behind, dashing after him as fast as I could. Francis was still at the table, and frankly I didn't care if he saw me run after Gilbert and let him see me run. I didn't care to let any of the borders see me run, most of them didn't even know who I was. And it was on light, panicked feet that I caught the door swinging behind him and rocketed down the hall, catching him on the back of his baggy death metal hoodie.<br>"Gilbert wait!" I yelled, even though I held him in place with my grip. He spun around, eyes wide, and almost collided with a low, flower bearing table that was decorating the hall.  
>"Shit! 'What the hell, princess?"<br>"Sorry, sorry!" I hurried to straighten the table, while he tended to his bruised shin. "I didn't mean to give you a fright…"  
>"'Well, you did a good job." He rubbed his leg sorely, looking at me with amused irritation while I was left to stand there awkwardly and pluck up the courage to say whatever it was I wanted to say.<br>"'What do you 'want?" he asked, always straight to the butt of the matter. "It's my 'wank hour in the bathroom, and… what?" I gave him a droll stare and he looked at me defensively. "Just 'cause you don't have a sex drive..." He trailed off suggestingly and I looked at him flatly. I was about to change my mind. Really I was. I was about to turn around, run away and dive into bed never to surface again ever. But I didn't. Why you ask? Because suddenly, he smiled; not his cocky, I'm-bettah-than-you smile, but a cute, boyish one that dimpled his cheek and made my heart melt in my chest.  
>"It's okay, princess, I think it's cute." He winked and bonked my nose with his index finger. I immediately hit his hand away, forcing myself not to scratch the tip of my nose.<br>"Don't!" I scowled.  
>"Aww…but-"<br>"Don't!" Feeling even more awkward the longer this went on, I realized I should get my act together, and combed my finger through my hair. "I need to talk to you."  
>"Mmm? About what?" He asked innocently. It was a justified question but him asking it made me feel even more embarrassed than necessary.<br>"It's about…" I closed my eyes and took the deepest breath I could. Very suddenly, I needed the bathroom. "Valentine's Day." The second I uttered the words, I wished I could take it back. My inner self reaching towards the cursed syllables but they were already uttered, can never be rescinded.  
>"Okay…" He looked clueless and I would've been grateful for it if I was planning to run away but I wasn't, so it only annoyed me.<br>"Well it's just…" I was entering panic now, fingers playing with the hem of my shirt with hands shaking crazily. "I was just thinking, you turned down all those girls, right? So, I was wondering...like, if you weren't going on a date with them, if you wanted…"  
>"If I 'wanted 'what?" The sing-song tone in his voice was teasing, suddenly grasping the direction of things. I suddenly wanted to drop dead. Very much.<br>"…to ask me." I buried my face in my hands and shook, waiting for him to laugh or scoff or make fun of me or something. As the seconds passed, the dread grew unbearable. But he did nothing. He did nothing, and said nothing, until I finally mustered the inner strength to peek from between my fingers to check if he was even still there. He was, looking stunned, mouth slack in surprise.  
>"Are you asking me out?" His voice incredulous.<br>"No!" Insistent, I stepped back, unable to hide my panic anymore. "I mean yes! No! I don't know! I…I have to go." I turned as quickly as I could and speed away. Where, I wasn't sure. Back to the café? No, I couldn't. The bathroom? No, Gilbert was going there next. My room? It was the other direction. I didn't know, but I hurried anyway and I would have figured it out when I arrived if it hadn't been for Gilbert calling after me.  
>"Hey! Hey, princess! 'Wait!"<br>I hesitated.  
>"I 'will come get you Saturday morning then. It's totally a date."<p>

…

_The subjects father is a lawyer, his mother is an opera starlet. I never would have found this out if I hadn't spotted her name in a magazine he was reading last night._

_…_

I didn't know what to wear.  
>I stared at my clothes hopelessly, realising for the first time that nothing, out of the huge great chest of clothing I possessed, was going to be satisfactory. Nothing at all. Frustrated, I threw the shirt I held to the floor. My alarmclock on my bedside read Saturday February 14th, nine thirty am and Gilbert would be meeting me in half an hour. And still I had nothing to wear.<br>I think I had every right to be panicked.  
>I turned to the spare empty bed in my room, Antonio's, creaking beneath the weight of my entire wardrobe. Shirts, trousers, jeans, blazers, scarves, hats…nothing was suitable. Nothing! But I had to choose something, or go naked. And I hadn't even had a shower yet! And so, in my hurry, I grabbed some items and a towel and dashed downstairs to the bathrooms. There were only a few juniors showering at this time of the day, so it was okay. I didn't need to fear Francis's teasing.<br>And I really, really needed a shower. I needed to calm down, I needed to unwind or otherwise, I was going to die. One brief shower later I had pulled on the lucky draw clothes and studied my reflection sufficiently for me to leave the room. White jeans, a black t-shirt, and neat high waisted blazer I had gotten for Christmas from…Antonio, actually.  
>Cute.<br>He may have been an idiot, but he was a good guy. I wondered if maybe I should send him an email, but didn't think on it for long. The butterflies in my stomach were having a rave, and every one was invited, so I really had to see to that first. Hurriedly, I packed up the rest of my clothes and switched on my hair iron, preparing to do my hair. I wondered if I should go with contacts today, but decided against it. Too much extra effort. My hair iron was ready. I brushed out my still damp head and combed it into the sort of style I wanted, before beginning to set my bangs.  
>A knock on the door signalled his arrival when I was about halfway done, and I burned my finger in shock on the plates. I cursed under my breath as I shook the pain out of my finger before continuing with my hair.<br>"Don't come in!" I called, struggling to get the one cowlick I hated to sit right. "I'm not decent!"  
>"You look great to me." A face popped up beside mine in the mirror and I yelped, dropping my iron.<br>"Gilbert, get out!" I reached for my iron and continued to straighten my hair.  
>"'Why?"<br>"I'm doing my hair!"  
>"Oh…right." He screwed up his nose, teasing me. "How could I have forgotten? You don't like it when folks disrespect the 'doo'…"<br>"Shut up and get out!" I switched the appliance off and smoothed my clothes. "You're early, anyway! It's…" I checked my watch. "Ten past…oh. Okay." I sighed heavily and turned back to fix the last of my hair as best I could. "Never mind then."  
>"Yeah…" He dropped onto the edge of my bed and watched me finish up.<br>And that was how our first 'date' began. Fortunately for me, it didn't stay as tense for long. Gilbert revealed, once we had left the room and I asked him nervously where we were going, he had gotten release cards to the city for the day and tickets to the cinema.  
>"But…" I thought aloud as we waited ankle deep in snow and cloaked in heavy black coats. "...release cards take like a two week wait for the school to approve. How did you manage that?" He cocked his eyebrow.<br>"Think about it, smarticles."  
>"Think about-oh. Ohhhhhhhhh…" The bus pulled up and suddenly I understood. "You were…"<br>"The awesome me 'was hoping to ask you anyway...but he 'wasn't brave enough I guess." He shrugged sheepishly and stepped aside to let me on first when the doors hissed open. "I'm glad you asked because otherwise I would have totally hated on him for not doing it. He 'was going to the other day in physics, but…" He trailed off and I couldn't help but feel rather moved by this confession. Moved and bemused because once again weird 'is this really Gilbert or am I just crazy?' Gilbert had appeared, and I didn't quite know how to react. And he was talking in third person. Wonderful.  
>"I…okay." I skirted into the first free seat and loosened my scarf. Excitement… I couldn't help be a little excited. I hadn't been in the city since before Christmas, and I knew it was so pretty in the snow, and… yes. Well, just yes.<br>"Warmer in here isn't it?" He settled next to me and slipped his woollen gloves off, setting them on his lap. I shrugged non-committaly and stared out the window.  
>"Hey." A finger tapped the side of my leg.<br>"What?" A shy, expectant little smile, he glanced down at his hand, palm up on his lap, and then nodded to my own. "Let me?"  
>"I don't-"<br>"Great, cheers." He grabbed my hand anyway, despite my hesitance, which made me wonder why he even bothered asking. It was strange, my stomach plunged, and my entire conscience focused on that hand. Suddenly, I was aware of how sensitive my palms were, how soft and slim his fingers were, how warm his touch was against my own gloveless, frozen hand. "'When on a date…"  
>"This isn't a date!" I warned him, even though it actually was, and turned back away to look out the window. "And don't go getting any ideas!" I shook my hand loose and sat on it. He made a soft noise, partway between surprise and hurt, but did not complain.<br>The cool glass of the window was a comfort though the view beyond was grim and cold. We set off slow down the hill the school sat atop of, and as we drew closer and closer to the city, snow covered planes became houses groaning under the weight of winter, and then tall buildings, propping up the heavy blanket of the stoney sky, lights from office buildings, shops and billboards glinted. The trip was long and slow, and the whole time all I could feel, all I could focus on was the sensation of his eyes flattering me, savouring me. It made me hot. Too hot. I almost wished I could be outside the bus, rolling in the snow and hidden from his gaze.  
>He simply didn't understand the meaning of 'no'.<br>Despite my telling him, by the time we were at the station, his hand was back in mine, and I didn't even notice until we were stumbling together, off the bus and onto the frozen sidewalk outside the cinema.  
>"Heh." He smiled and raised our linked hands. "Cute."<br>"I said no holding hands!"  
>This time, however, he wouldn't let me pull away.<br>Instead, I found myself pulled against him, under his arm, close to his side. The emotional jolt that shuddered through me would have left me frozen in place if he hadn't pulled me along down toward the entrance despite the strange glances we were getting.  
>Embassy Seven was an old, art deco style theatre turned cinema, built for opera and plays and converted ten years ago to a cinema with seven screens, a bowling alley, and dance stage within. The pretty, imposing doors glowed with gold and glass, beyond I could see the lines of movie goers waiting to buy tickets.<br>"Glad I got them before hand?" He asked me cockily, holding the door wide in grace to let me through first. I made an abstract noise and bowed my head, hoping I wouldn't be seen by anyone. My stomach grumbled, and I bunched my hand in the front of my blazer, hoping he hadn't heard…  
>"I'll buy you some popcorn then, eh?" He laughed at my red face and guided me expertly through the crowds to the candy counter. Inside, the embassy was just as fancy and regal. Dark red carpet, exotic plaster beams and decorations along the hem of wall, ceiling and floor. Movie posters decorated the walls, fancy lamps, glittering, like stepping into the glamorous thirties…<br>I was too busy gazing around to pay attention to where I was going, walking straight into someone and apologising profusely in a spectacular state. The guy turned around and regarded me for a moment, eyebrows arched. He was a very dark, with thick black eyebrows, brown eyes, and hair like soot.  
>"Watch where you are going, yes?" He didn't seem impressed by me, I was about the size of his arm. "What do you think this is, anyway?"<br>"I'm so-"  
>"Roderich?"<br>A horrifyingly familiar voice made the hair on the back of my neck stand up in anxiety. Mine, Gilberts and the stranger's head snapped around to the girl approaching us from the direction of the bathroom. She was astonishingly pretty, in a green dress, and with long, waving brown hair that spilled over her shoulders and breasts. Her face broke into a full smile upon seeing me, and I found myself feeling very distinctly sick.  
>"…Elizabeta. Hi…"<br>"Oh hi! How are you?" She embraced me kindly and stepped back, only to be pulled back by the big scary guy behind her. I looked at him closely and I suddenly recognised him. I kicked myself for not doing so before. He was the guy she had left me for. That's right…I remembered now. He obviously remembered too because he didn't look delighted to see me.  
>"It's great to meet up again!" Liz exclaimed, eyes raking over me curiously, seeing bits and pieces and noting what had changed, what hadn't… "And…who's your friend?" Her eyes fell on Gilbert and my stomach did the most peculiar thing. I couldn't decide if I was embarrassed or defensive, ashamed or proud, for her to see me with his arm around my shoulder. One thing is for sure, he was better looking than that excuse for a boyfriend she had. <em>His<em> eyebrows were so expansive they were almost a unibrow, and his jaw was so heavy I wondered how he kept it held up.  
>"Gilbert Beilschmidt." Gilbert thrust his hand forward aggressively, for a handshake she wasn't expecting. "And you must be Lizard."<br>"Lizard?" she asked, appalled and I whined. Lizard was what I had called her around Antonio, when she had first left me. Gilbert smiled, something darkly snarky lingered beneath the gesture, and I was immediately glad I had not been on the receiving end of it.  
>"Yah, you're the bitch who dumped princess?" He dropped his unshaken hand and I covered my face in humiliation, the expression on Liz's face was appropriate for someone who had just been slapped.<br>"You what?"  
>"I said-"<br>"Are you ragging on my girl?" Big ol' boyfriend stepped forward, towering over the two of us and looking pretty pissed. "You little grey haired weasel?"  
>"Fucker, I'm blonde. And yeah, I 'would say that's exactly what I'm doing."<br>"Why you little-"  
>"Bring it on, shit-eater."<br>"Gilbert!" I grabbed Gilbert's lifting fist firmly. "Don't you dare hit him!"  
>"Oooohhhh…" Boyfriend crooned, grabbing Liz's waist possessively. "You gunna listen to your little lady, then, blondie?"<br>"Fucking-" I managed to grab him before he lunged and ripped out the other guy's throat.  
>"Gilbert, leave him alone!" It was hard to hold him back, but I managed, holding his coat and standing between the two in that horrible, clichéd way I would never have imagined I would find myself in. "You will get us kicked out!" With one last, positively scathing look, Gilbert let me push him back and tug him out of sight of the two of them beside the popcorn machine.<br>"You idiot!" I brought my fist down on his chest, pissy as can be. "What are you doing? That was so embarras-"  
>"Shh." He covered my mouth with his hand and smiled. "Am I not allowed to assert my manhood for the sake of my maidens honour?" He stole my breath quite entirely when, without warning or consent, he leaned forward, and kissed the back of his hand. The one that was, at the time, covering my tingling lips.<p>

I could feel the ghost of them, even through his flesh and bone and skin.

…

_He doesn't really _do_ much, my subject. Hes more kind of a 'lie-in-bed-and-look-at-cats-on-the-internet' slob, and at first I fund that really confusing. He doesn't look like the kind at all. But he seems very much the kind to keep up appearances in public… maybe it makes sense after all._

_…_

The movie he chose was wonderful. It was like the CD thing again I suppose, unexpected and lovely. I can't remember what it was about, all I remember is that there was no horrid humour or scariness, but there was a lot of music, some dancing, and a meaningful plot. But it was hard to concentrate in the dark, with his arm around me, his hand stroking pleasantly over my shoulder and his head tipping so that I could smell his hair, his perfume, his skin…  
>"Hey, princess." His fingers caressed the side of my neck, I shifted, resting my head shyly on his arm and swallowing my heart to a more appropriate place in my chest. In the dark, it was easier. He didn't say anything, didn't draw any attention to our closeness or how I let him hold me in the way I never would in daylight. I wasn't sure why I did so. I was nervous, excited, but conflicted. I liked how it felt, and it disgusted me. I found myself thinking of his mannerisms, the way he smiled, the strange double sided way he acted and spoke and all the things he did to win me over. I thought of the field guide, of all the things he noticed, all the things he noticed about me and the things he hid under a cocky conceited smile.<br>I thought of his kiss on his hand. And wondered how it might have felt on my mouth.  
>When we left, I let him hold my hand without complaint. He didn't say anything about it, but I could tell by the way he smiled at me when it came time to part ways, that I had done a great thing. It made me glad, and I found myself falling slowly into the conviction that maybe, just maybe, Gilbert wasn't so bad after all.<p>

…

_I don't think he's a bad person… just kind of uptight. He seems very suspicious of everyone and everything, like hes afraid to let anyone in. people see him as a stuck up, or a bitch. I think he's just a little shy…_

PART SIX (part sex)

"Who is it?" I looked up from my novel, brushing my fingers anxiously through my bangs in case it was who I thought it was. "You can come in."  
>"Awesome, I was going to anyway." The person who pokes his head around the door was exactly who I suspected, wearing a bright yellow hoody and at first glance, no pants. He had his laptop in his arms, and a dorky smile plastered across his face.<br>"Antonio wants to chat with you."  
>"Antonio?" I frowned, dog earing the book and closing it. "What? Is he…" Gilbert pointed to his computer and nodded eagerly. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just an excuse to get into my room. "Why does he want to talk to me?" He shrugged and dropped down on my bed, passing me his laptop. The screen was lowered so I straightened it up and adjusted the angle and, sure enough, Antonio's face was there, pixelated, but definitely his. He was smiling, waving a cheerful hand, and beside him a face I recognized, but belonging to a boy I had never met. The beautiful one, with dark hair and a scowling, indifferent look about him.<br>"Hey, Roderich." He was just as cheerful as ever. "Wanna get Gilbert in the frame too? That way the three of us can talk proper." Antonio's friend grumbled something inaudible, and he tilted his head to listen. I paid no heed, looking instead to Gilbert and beckoning him forward, to sit beside me on my bed. Naturally, he didn't hesitate. Making himself immediately comfortable, and waving excitedly back in the frame.  
>"Told you he was speaking to me again." He boasted and I sucked a breath, slamming my fist into the accessible side of his stomach.<br>"What else did you tell him?" I demanded, and he laughed, nursing his side.  
>"Nothing important." The naughty little smile he shot me was slight and reduced me to a flustered mess. I sincerely hoped Antonio wouldn't notice. I had been finding Gilbert more and more tolerable lately. Not just tolerable, but enjoyable. Often times, I found myself wishing for his company. On one occasion, I had asked him to the music room with me at break.<br>He could be an exceptional gentleman, when the need arose.  
>Antonio didn't need to know this though. It was our secret. And it was going to stay that way. Because this all, the way his hand touched my waist beneath the eyeline of the camera, the way he sent me sweet text messages in class, ones I pretend I never read, the way he kissed me through his hand every time we were alone, was private and embarrassing and ours, thank you very much. And that's the way I liked it.<br>Antonio didn't mention any such thing, but he smiled wisely at us the whole time. When he hung up, he wore the look of a man too pleased with himself to say a word in case he sounded like a skite.  
>And Gilbert stayed in my room that night, taking Antonio's empty bed.<p>

…

_The subject reads a lot of biographies. About a lot of people, non-specific but mostly musicians and royals. He had almost a whole shelf of them, dog eared pages and everything. _

_…_

"Hey, princess?"  
>"Mmm?" I flexed my toes and he hesitated with his foot rub, running his hands smoothly over the tops of my feet.<br>"Do you like me?" This was a strange question, and we both knew it. I frowned, and looked to him for an explanation, but handsome earnest eyes gazed back at me and I realized I had to select my own boundaries in which to answer that. Did I? Didn't I? I'd never really thought so much on it before.  
>"Yeah," I told him casually, pushing my hair back off my face. "I like you."<br>"As in… like me, like me?" I sighed heavily, knowing the days were drawing longer, summer was drawing nearer, and that inevitable question was here at last like the winter of our relationship was melting, and he was getting ready to step out into the new, the warm.  
>I was perfectly happy hibernating, thank you very much.<br>Beyond my window, the snow had cleared, though it was still ice cold. The grass was beginning to sprout, the birds were singing early mornings, and things at school were working into a frenzy when all any of the students wanted to do was relax and go out into the sun. My room had steadily and steadily became messier as the year progressed. From perfectly, anally neat, to a potential bomb test site, this was partially due to Anonio's leaving and Gilbert's frequent visits. Half of the things scattered everywhere were actually his. Things were calm and comfortable. My science results were steadily improving under his watchful eye, my concentration was improving and my music, too, was moving forward in leaps and bounds. So much so that my tutor had me applying for royal schools scholarships, something I never would have dreamed of, though I had always secretly aspired to. Gilbert had already received five invitations from a handful of top national schools. Five. And career counselling hadn't even began yet.  
>Francis was dropping out to pursue a career in fashion, potentially pimping…<br>And Ivan and that weird junior were the only couple still together, after the crazed Valentine's Day flood in February. Well…  
>"Gilbert, I like you, but I still haven't forgiven you for what you did."<p>

He grumbled something and rolled his eyes. Not distracted, I carried on. We hadn't spoke about what he did for a long time. I still had the guide, and I know he knew because sometimes I caught his eyes darting to the drawer in which I keep it nervously. Maybe, by now, he was beginning to understand what a stupid, creepy, immature thing he had done. Maybe.  
>"I mean, it was pretty messed up."<br>"What else could I have done!" He whined, resuming his foot rub. "Can we not talk about this? It was ages ago."  
>"Four months is a very short increment of time!" Not short enough for me to be here like this with him though, mind. "And what does it matter? You can't still like me like that can you?" I struggled to understand, genuinely, how anyone could. I wasn't exactly the most pleasant person ever…and the fact that suddenly I was able to realize this so clearly was both strangely liberating and also a big kick to my pedestal.<br>"Of course I do." He admitted shyly, head bowed over my feet so that his hair obscured most of his face. The red on his cheeks was still visible though, and the awkward level in the room neatly skyrocketed. "Look at me, I'm bloody sitting here massaging your feet like a bitch. It's so not awesome. I don't even like feet." He frowned, wiggling my pinky toe. "But you have cute feet."  
>"Don't say that kind of thing!" I pulled my feet back, flustered, and sat up straight spine on my bed. "For god's sake!"<br>"'Why not? It's true."  
>"Because" I gritted my hands and forced myself not to blush. "Shut up!"<br>"I'm sorry, 'wrong answer." Without warning, he yanked my foot back to his chest and leaned forward across me, in the most intimate gesture he had given so far. Chest to chest, I could feel his breathing, I could see nothing but his eyes. And all my focus was on his hips, jeaned and slim, spreading my legs wide. "Let's try this again: do you like me?"  
>"Gilbert!" The look in his eyes was dangerous. I'd never seen it before, except maybe at the cinema, albeit a lot watered down. It was hot, hungry, possessive, and contorted with a testosterone-y arrogance that was perversely becoming on him, and cataclysmic.<br>"'What? Do you or don't you?" His eyebrows betrayed every trace of emotion in his tone with subtle eloquence, his hands wandered up my leg, over my thighs, to my hips, and I sank back into the bed. I didn't respond. I couldn't respond. It was just too weird and nerve wracking, like being on a rollercoaster and hesitating, before taking that final drop.  
>"Can I kiss you?"<br>"…Yes."

In a split breaking second, I grabbed the side of his head and yanked him forward, savouring his taste and scent and mouth for the very first time. I couldn't say why, I couldn't figure out what had been my intention, or what had inspired me to do it, all I knew was that I fiercely, in that moment, needed to have him kiss me nakedly, without the modesty of hand and composure.  
>The kiss was weird. Different to kissing Liz and her cheerful lips, his were broader, less sticky with gloss, and warmer. They were a little chapped. Delicious tasting, in a bitter strangely alcoholic way…<br>"Have you been drinking?" I blurted, pulling back and rubbing the back of my hand across my mouth. He frowned.  
>"…Only for six years."<br>"No, recently. Your mouth tastes…" I trailed off. "Nevermind." His eyebrows arched, the tip of his tongue smoothing over his bottom lip.  
>"You don't like it?"<br>"No, I like it, but…"  
>"Shh." He cut me off with a finger, guiding my head to tilt, pleading access to my neck and jaw and the side of my cheek. Kisses so gentle I had to close my eyes to concentrate on them as they caressed my skin, breath creamed over angles and sweeping lines of my collar I had never realized existed. "I really like you, princess. I 'won't stop until I have you…"<br>"What does that even mean?" I was clutching at straws, quivering in my place like a leaf trapped on the splayed finger of a tree. My voice sounded muffled, swaddled and damp with fear and heat I had only ever associated with waking up in the morning beneath wet sheets, satisfied but also awfully louche. Still horny... He pressed his forehead against mine again, tipping my head back, kissing in a teasing, distant sort of way.  
>"Sleep 'with me?"<br>"What?" I sat to attention, pushing him backward, horrified by the very suggestion. "What the..."  
>"Have sex 'with me." He reiterated, in case I didn't hear properly the first time. "Have sex 'with me once and I swear to god, if you don't like it, I 'will leave you alone forever. I 'won't bother you again."<br>"That's ins-"  
>"Listen." He brought his hands onto my shoulders and squeezed firmly. "This is important to me. I really like you. A lot. Too much. And I can't carry on like this anymore. I'm giving you an ultimatum. If you say no, I will leave now and never come back. If you let me try, I promise I will be good to you. And if you don't like it, then I will leave you alone."<br>"Are you... blackmailing-"  
>"Yes, I am. So 'what do you say?"<p>

Well, I didn't know what to say. I was left there, bewildered, bordering on panic. I couldn't say yes, because then I would have to have sex with him, which was something I really was not ready for. But if I said no...I would be alone again. And I highly doubted anyone ever again would happily rub my feet.  
>"... How...?"<br>"Look." He was desperate now, but definitely resolved. I could only tell because I knew him so well. The tense lines paling his brow and his pinkening cheeks were all that gave away embarrassment and earnestness, the rest of him demanding, strong, confident. "Let's make a deal. If you sleep with me, and I can get you to say my name, you are mine, okay? That 'way you don't need to tell me, you can just... trust your body." I struggled to come to terms with that.  
>"You're joking right?"<br>"Do I look like I am joking?" He met my eyes unhesitatingly and I swallowed, unable to lie and say that he did. His jaw was set, and the powerful stance he had above me was not in the least bit awkward or shy at all. It was not one anyone could ever associate with a _physics genius_. It was powerful, commanding, and shiver inducing. It had lifted the jack hammer of my heartbeat to a pace that threatened to pound and crack straight through my chest. It had me pinned down, unable to move, being stripped and peeled back by his eyes until I was a small, shivering child pleading for mercy.  
>"…If I say your name…"<br>"You are mine. Exactly."  
>"And if I don't, you leave me…"<br>"I leave you alone." He licked his upper lip with the point of his tongue. "And we pretend this whole thing never happened."

It wasn't a hard decision to make.  
>"Deal."<p>

…

_Found out today the reason the subject is in the boarding school is because his parents have gone to Israel… why didn't he go with them? God, how cool would that have been?_

_…_

We didn't do it straight away.  
>It hung over my head for almost a week, between the Monday afternoon we decided and the Saturday evening he promised he would come to my dorm and make good on his promise. It was not at all easy, functioning as normal in classes and outside because every time I let my mind wander, entertaining thoughts on what it would be like, however, I wouldn't get far because I would jump, my pulse over-excited, my cheeks suddenly flooded with colour. I wondered what it actually meant to 'have sex' with someone else. A man, on top of that. And yet again… Gilbert. Gilbert kissing me all over, Gilbert's hands touching me in insanely intimate ways. I may not have known much about sex, but I definitely knew how two guys did it, and I really doubted he would be willing to take my dick up his ass. Gilbert's…thing. I worried about it so much. About the humiliation, the pain, and secretly, I worried about the pleasure. What would it be like? I'd never had a conscious orgasm before, and what if it really was that good? What if it genuinely blew my mind, and I made a fool of myself. What if he didn't like it?<br>So many worries and questions, that by the time he arrived in my bedroom that weekend I was a twitching, anxious mess of a human being. My hands tremored fiercely when I answered the door, and in my robe I felt very suddenly naked, when he waved at me brightly in his jeans and yellow hooded sweater. All I wore beneath the fluff and warmth was a pair of shorties. He looked glowing, happy to be here.  
>"Hey." He stepped in and embraced me comfortably, kissing the crown of my head and nudging the door shut behind him. "Are you all set?" I shrugged, barely able to support myself any more, and winding my arms around his neck. A heavy sigh of relief and fear. Feelings of longing, indescribable and terrifying swirled inside me. He laughed, kissing my temple and guiding me backward, onto the bed. "I've been waiting for this for too long." I landed back on the bed with an 'oomph!', and it was in that moment something inside of me broke and the floodgates opened.<br>I had never been so aware of everything around me as I was that moment. The bounce of my bed beneath me, the cloth on my bare skin so deliciously sensate and tangible and wondrous... Excitement, desire, giddy disbelief that someone wanted me, I felt my muscles tingle, my skin begin to bloom with blood. My lips swelled and short of breath I allowed myself to go limp, when he moved on top of me, kissing my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my jaw.  
>Oh god, finally!<br>Finally, I was here, with Gilbert. Finally, he was kissing me, touching me, devouring me slowly and dragging me into his body and driving me wild and hot and bothered. I struggled to get out from under him and settle on my bed properly, my body leaning against the headboard and gasping for breath.  
>"Right…" I told him, closing my eyes and savouring the hugely significant feeling of being a virgin for the last time. "Okay. I'm ready." He sucked a deep breath and ruffled his hair.<br>"Okay. That's cool. But um…" His eyebrow twitched in thought and I pressed my lips together nervously.  
>"What?"<br>"Do you think we could calm down a little first? Cool off? I would like to start again from somewhere a little more intimate."

…

_He stands like a girl in the shower, as if he's afraid of being seen. He washes his hair twice, then conditions, and then he scrubs himself from head to toe scrupulously with a lime green loofah. He cleans his feet, shaves his underarms, and stands at the mirror for about ten minutes, checking his perfect skin for pimples…_

_…_

It took a good ten minutes of awkward small talk and cuddling before he would even try to kiss me some more; the entire time, I was wiggling around, wishing he would just hurry the hell up. Eventually, it happened, and it took me totally by surprise.  
>The first kiss Gilbert administered to my lips was obscenely gentle, totally at odds with the fever he had been snogging me with before. More than gentle, actually; it was so light and fragile it was almost a breath of air, the faintest tingle of lips brushing secretively against foreign ones. He held his face carefully so only our mouths touched and I realized that, clearly, this was our first time sharing a proper consensual kiss and that was why he had wanted to be so cautious and soft, he didn't want to fuck it up.<br>It was long, too, slow and sensual. Even though, at first, I had kept my eyes open, expecting a brief peck followed by some fierce tongue thrusting, I felt them slipping closed as the kiss deepened, his thumb slipping sleepily over my throat to the angle of my jaw between neck and ear. After about thirty lazy seconds of just feeling the soft yielding petal of his lips, he pulled back, fingers caressing the side of my cheek.  
>"Okay?" He murmured, and I realized with a shaky breath my mind had caught for a split second on that kiss and I had forgotten who I was.<br>"What?"

He laughed, a low grumble that trembled in his chest and leaned forward again in answer. My mouth cracked apart a little in expectation this time, and he met it, warm and ever so lightly slicked wet, the prick of his tongue sneaking in slyly and tapping teasingly at the gate of my teeth before flickering back in an anxious game of capture the flag. I realized, with a ghost of despair, that this was the indicator of what our sex was going to be like; slow, luxurious…drowning in a body smelling like mountain sides and flowery musk. Maybe I had been in over my head after all. He was better than I had ever dreamed of. I was already dizzy…  
>"'Whoa! Easy boy." He backed off, startled when I jammed my tongue forward and tried to get him into my mouth proper. "'We have all day. Let's take our time." His hand slinked over the side of my lower thigh and I arched anxiously. He was touching me for the first time, running the ball of his hand over the exposed skin below the leghole of my shorts… My breath caught in a wave of anxiety that the sensation just brought to me.<br>"I really like you," He murmured against my neck, hand moving again and finding its place flat on my stomach. "I mean I really, really…"  
>"I know." Embarrassed, I turned my head away. "I figured." He laughed, Gilbert had this amazing, charming little laugh that I had never noticed before. Or maybe I had noticed and just not thought of it.<br>"Can I take your robe off?"  
>"Mmm." I nodded, screwing my eyes closed and getting comfortable on the bed. My heartbeat… I could barely hear his voice over it. Soft fingers glided up beneath the cloth, pulling the ties away from my abdomen, trying to pry it off my chest gently. I allowed him, arching my back to make it easier for him to inch it up, up, up and off all the way, totally disorganising my hair and glasses as he did so.<br>"Here." He pinched my glasses off my nose and put them on his own face, hovering an inch from mine. "Do I look like a nerd now?" I smiled a little, annoyed that the cold air on my chest was, well, cold.  
>"I don't know, I cant see you."<br>"Pfft." He leaned over me, draping himself like a blanket across my shoulders and back and we kissed again. Once again his mouth had this particular flavour I had become by this point acquainted with. Once the lip barrier was broken, it was proven to be pleasantly warm and a little bitter, like beer, but also sweet like boysenberries maybe, or plums. It wasn't a disgusting flavour, just an unusual one, and it fit him very well, flicking all the switches in my body in a "click, click" motion, almost like the keys of tunes tinkering in the background.  
>God, he kissed like he had forever. Always dancing, backwards then forwards, dipping and teasing and exploring slow and thorough. He was achingly slow, his hands caressing my locks instead of combing through them, the tidal motion of his mouth drawing my chest up and down too, like he was pulling me into some kind of hypnotic rhythm that even once he progressed to tattooing my neck with kiss marks, didn't cease. Down his tongue followed, reaching my collar bone and the twisted necklace there, silver, with a both cross and star of David on it.<br>"I knew you were Jewish…" He commented. "...with a name like Edelstein…"  
>"I'm not Jewish!" I told him breathlessly. "My mum is just very pro-'any-religion-that-believes-in-a-single-God.'"<br>"Yeah, yeah." He grinned and poked me in the sides, like he was pronging me for a schoolyard electric shock. "Whatever." His teeth scraped along my collar bone testily before the tongue followed, swiping and coiling slowly from one shoulder to the other. "I want to kiss on every inch of your body." He mumbled. I was unsure if he spoke to me, or to himself; his hands roamed my abdomen and his mouth moving to the cleave of my chest, it was hard to form any coherent thoughts. When he got to the shallow arc beneath my ribcage, he paused, licking and sucking and nibbling. I squirmed, my fingers curled in the blanket and, yet again, breathing habits escaped me. After gasping a shuddering lungful of air, he decided I had had enough of that and propped himself up to the side of me again, one hand cradling his chin, the other massaging my chest as though there were breasts there to be indulged.  
>"Don't touch like that!" Feeling utterly pink faced and hoping his vision <em>with<em> my glasses was just as blurry as my vision _without_ them so he couldn't see my expression, I pushed him back down onto his back, letting him pull me over on top of him and hold me for a moment, his kisses raining all over my forehead and eyes. My ears prickled, hearing his blood pounding as frantically as my own. The lazy movements of his body did not betray once the desperate canter of his heart.  
>Could he feel I was hard already?<br>I dragged my mouth back to his and very powerfully I remembered the cornflowers he had sent me, those beautiful blue blossoms more charming than anything I had ever seen before. Had he chosen them himself? It had never occurred to me how sweet that was of him to do. My fingers clenched the hem off his hoodie and somehow he wiggled down, encouraging me to pull it off. With that done, there was room for more kissing, more chest to chest. More of his hands squeezing the backs of my thighs, and somehow, I was pulled open and over, one leg either side of his waist. Two pairs of underwear were the only things separating me from the hardness of his cock pressing against my ass. Startled, I sat back and he jolted his hips up in a digging movement that pressed his bulge hard against that place he coveted. It was a crazy, powerful sensation, and I couldn't help the soft, humiliatingly girly squeak it earned.  
>"Lean back..." He told me hoarsely, bending his legs up to prop my back. "...and hold on tight to my ankles, I'm going to take you on a little ride."<br>"Ah…" My eyes fluttered shut, my lips trembling to drip a moan when he did the hip lift again. I slid my hands blindly behind me along the length of muscular, slightly hairy legs. "You're still wearing socks…" Incredulous, both at the socks and the odd way my voice felt in this state, I pushed them down clumsily with trembling hands. "Take them-ah!" His hands grasped my waist, he lay back flat and began thrusting his hips up into me, as though he was fucking me already, through our underclothes. With a jolt and a shiver of pleasure, I realized that this feeling, this friction and rubbing against somewhere that I didn't usually associate with the twitching pulsing heat of arousal, equalled to me riding a dick.  
>I was riding Gilbert's dick and it felt good.<br>Before I could help myself, I had tightened my grip on his ankles, meeting his soft thrusts and whimpering lowly every time he rubbed flush. The small front patch of my knickers was damp now, but I didn't want to stop to take them off. It was him who insisted, face screwing up, hips freezing awkwardly and requesting in a pinched voice to stop, to wait a sec, he needed to get my pants off now. His breath was heavy as I ran my hands over his bare chest, touching the facets of it for the first time. It was smooth, light on the fingers and beautifully carved. My face drew closer, compelled to lick, but he pushed it back cautiously.  
>"Cut that out, I'm supposed to be fucking you, remember?" His thumb rubbed my lower lip and I bit it, still shifting uneasily in his lap and wishing he would hurry up and finish the job already for god's sake. To shut him up I collapsed on top of him, plucking a hand from my waist and sliding it insistently to my butt.<br>"Touch," I requested gently, kissing his mouth. He seemed happy to do just that, and after a few good squeezes and a few deep kisses his fingers began wandering, finding the place he was going to play and pressing at it through my shorts. Needless to say, that started me shivering, my skin across my shoulders beading a cold sweat. "Gilbert, I'm really nervous."  
>"Nowhere near as nervous as me," He mumbled into my ear. "I stopped knowing what the hell I was doing five minutes ago."<p>

I laughed, an anxious little gasp, and sealed our lips together for a flicky, tongue toying kiss. My hands found his throat, I stroked along the length, taking a deep tactile delight in the way missed patches of invisible stubble became smooth. Caressing his flesh, my thumb found love with his jaw line.  
>"Who's in charge?" He asked, flipping me slowly and pulling my hand away. "Now lie there and let me make good on my promise." I nodded helplessly, wiping the string of saliva that had snapped between us from my lips, and inhaling sharply when he propped my hips up on his lap and pried my legs apart as far as they would go.<br>His mouth, like in the beginning, was always so insistent to learn every inch of my flesh by heart, started at the back of my knee and worked its way painfully slowly back up. Inching, no matter how much I grunted in complaint or gave his hair an impatient tug.  
>"Fucking hell, Gilbert!" He smiled against my inner thigh, I could feel it. His hand not propping the leg up spiderwalked along my other shin. "Stop teasing already!"<br>"Fine." In a fluid sort of movement, he lifted my hips entirely and had my undies off. I was effectively naked before him now, with a raging erection and a massive anxiety that something very dreadful may happen any moment. Excited too, and disbelieving because...this was Gilbert. THE Gilbert. Common as muck, cocky, self-obsessed physics nerd Gilbert, and he was turning me on like I had never been turned on before. It was inconceivable.  
>Not hesitating for such thoughts mind you, he bent down, immediately taking my dick into his mouth and clearly appreciative of the surprised scream he received in return.<br>But oh _god_, it felt good.  
>He started off slow at first, as I assume one does, holding my boner with one hand and clutching my fingers with the other while he licked me cautiously and began sucking. It was strange to see, but riveting. Unable to take just lying there with my head thrown back, I propped myself up, my hand rubbing his scalp and my hips lifting as he did his job.<br>"Ah…" My soft breath became steady little moans and groans as he pulled at me and kissed me and squeezed his fistful. Graciously, he still took the time to suck my balls as well, roll his tongue over them while his hand pumped the rest of me swiftly.

"Ah…ah…ohhhh fuck…" I came in record time, emptying my first shot all over his face and the other over my stomach.  
>"Tada…" With a cute smile, I managed to glimpse through the haze of my lashes as he wiped the semen off his cheek, smoothing his hand through the small splatters on my abdomen and licking the trails left behind. "How many more times do I have to do that then, before you're mine?"<p>

I shook my head helplessly, feeling like a little ragdoll and only enforcing that feeling he nudged me over into my stomach, his wide handspan pressing me into the bed. "Relax, okay?" His breath ghosted the nape of my neck. "Take…"  
>"What?"<br>"Take deep breaths." Whispering, his lips pressed to my hairline. "You need to totally relax…. Focus on my hands okay, just totally…"  
>"Your hands…" It wasn't hard considering how warm and delectably calloused they were at the fingertips, the sort of toughness one gets from fingering a fretboard. He wore a ring on his right hand (I think it was his right hand) and it pressed cool against my back at first, slowly absorbing the warmth of my body as the fingers hushed over the skin of my shoulders, his mouth moving down to the top of my spine.<br>"Your skin is beautiful," He murmured, pinching gently along the ridge at the bottom of my shoulder blades and dipping his fingertips into the hollows. "And your back… your hair…" One hand came up to comb through it. "It smells good. God, it smells so good…can you feel that?"  
>"…Yeah…" Breathless, my response was barely audible and cracky but he heard it fine because he responded in mumbled, intelligible German.<br>"Roderich… can you feel that?" His hand had found my lower back, above my tailbone, and was digging softly there, deliciously.  
>"Mmm."<br>"Is it good?"  
>"It's good…"<br>"Harder? Lighter? Tell me what you want."  
>"Harder… a little higher." He obliged and I moaned into my pillow. His hands hummed with some kind of unnameable energy, they throbbed warmly against my skin…<br>"While we are sharing this little moment then, I think I should finish apologizing to you, for what I did." He eased his hands off and settled on top of me, which of course I wasn't expecting. Fortunate then that he had such a trim frame, his chest moulding so well against my back, his erection once again notched against my behind, prodding shyly. "Because I am sorry, okay? I'm not a very good person socially and I guess it kind of made sense at the time considering I was too shy…"  
>"You aren't shy…" I croaked, turning my head so I could press my nose against his. "You're the most obscenely not shy person I've ever met…"<br>"No, I'm actually really shy. It's not something I advertise but… I mean, I'm pretty awesome but when it comes to flirting I'm useless. Always put my foot in my mouth, always end up looking like an idiot…"  
>"You are an idiot, too."<br>"Shut up." He kissed me briefly and I could feel the smile there, though my eyes had slid shut in contentment, feeling his heart beating against my back. "I'm only an idiot for you." Sluggishly, in time with each softening breath I drew, he resumed stroking my sides, running circles along my waistline and propping his weight back up. "I really like you, princess. I've liked you for ages."  
>"Mmm."<br>"I think about you all the time. I dream about you, I tell my friends about you, I masturbate to you, I-"  
>"What?" Suddenly blushing, I sprung up, almost knocking him off his seat on the cushion of my ass. "What did you say?"<br>"I…" He paused his massage and blinked at a red cheeked, embarrassed me. "I masturbate-"  
>"Yes, okay, I heard you right..." I shook my head, exasperated, and flopped back face down on the bed. "Oh my god, Gilbert! You don't tell people that!"<br>"Well it's true! See, this is what I mean by always putting my foot in my mouth!" I could hear a faint sulk leak into his tone. "Fucking hell! I'm awkward, okay? Great, now fucking deal with it!" And as if shoving my face into the pillow beneath me and viciously attacking the back of my neck would serve to prove this point, he did exactly that. I, naturally, wasn't impressed. There were moments he bit a little too hard, and of course face down like that, I couldn't breathe, but oh god the rush of adrenaline when he did it made me dizzy. I clutched fiercely at my pillow, the fabric rippling and the feathers crinkling and whining. His tongue fiddled the very bottom of my hair line, his breath was hot and tingling on my scalp…  
>When he moved his hands either side of my waist and dropped his flat tongue down my spine, licking a long stroke from point A all the way down to the very top of my ass crack, I lost all semblance of control completely. My stomach collapsed like falling over the huge drop on a roller coaster. I broke out in shivers, and of course a loud cry accompanied the surprising motion. Horrified, I tried to sit up, clapping my hand over my face.<br>"Don't." His hand palmed my upper back. "I haven't come back up yet, and focus on it this time, okay? Really focus." He pushed me back down into the bed. "Are you focused?" That really was dependant on his idea of focus. If 'focus' meant totally and utterly honed on his lips hovering over my tail bone, yet also totally completely concentrating on every other conceivable sensation around me at the same time, then yes, I was focused. I was utterly and convictedly focused. I was focused with a rush like being on drugs, and sort of ready for it but not really, I shuffled a bit and nodded. His lips pinched my left asscheek briefly but before I had time to complain of it, tiny butterfly licks flirting with the small of my back nipped my thoughts. It was unfair, how unexpectedly good it felt and unintentionally, I slipped a moan.  
>The ascension of his tongue was like igniting a fine string of gunpowder. With the point, hot and wet, he trailed slowly from the top of the cleave of my behind up, searing heat and helpless shivers in his wake. I grasped my pillow in an attempt to hold myself together, struggling not to melt to nothing under his licking, but when he reached my shoulderblades, I was done. Hungry, the final straw snapped and was thrown to the curb. Popping kisses across my neck, I let him come back to my mouth, tip my head back, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me…<p>

"Get over!" My voice seemed unfamiliar, husky. "Get…" I tossed backward and scrambled on top of him. "Let me…"

"Whoa, Roderich-"

"Shhh…" I silenced him, mouth on mouth and settled comfortably against his hip. It was a beautiful position, his leg pressing against my balls in just the right way to slowly roll over and cling to. "Kiss…"  
>He let me kiss him this time, gently at first because I was unsure how to go about it, but his patience astonished me, considering it was Gilbert. My hands wandered over the lines of his waist; he was trim, muscular, pleasant. I found nothing along the lines of his body but sexiness, sexiness, and a pantline that had to go. The elastic slipped easily, twisting up as I edged it down his thighs. His erection, bared now, was warm against my skin and a little sticky. As soon as my fingertips brushed it though, he brought his hand down and stopped me in my tracks.<br>"Don't," He growled harshly. "I'm not done with you yet."  
>"I want to."<br>"Not until you say my name." He tumbled me over again and hitched my legs apart before I could say anything. Of course, I squealed, suddenly aware that he could see everything, and he was studying it with a fine eye, like he was assessing something to buy.  
>"Don't!" My hands flew down to cover.<br>"Why? I've seen it before."  
>"Not that part!" It came out as a hiss but I was just embarrassed but clearly he was not bothered. He rolled his eyes, hooked one leg around my waist and shifted his hands. One to move my modesty aside, the other to brush along the most intimate stretch of my right thigh.<br>I remembered distantly that he's left handed.  
>"There's nothing wrong." He smiled at me coyly, almost as though he found me cute. "What's the panic? You showered right?"<br>"Of course!"  
>"You scrubbed up?"<br>"Don't say it like that!"  
>"So what's the problem?" I squeaked and threw my head back, helplessly embarrassed. So much so, I felt my hard on droop.<br>"It's not…"  
>"It's not what?" The pad of a finger skated over the place in question and I jolted.<br>"Tidied!" I whispered it, so ashamed I felt like I was going to die. "I would have liked to clean up first!" A light frown, he tipped his hand over and studied.  
>"Actually, it doesn't need tidying. You have hardly any pubes." I justifiably squawked this time, like a flustered canary in a cage recognizing a kin and fluttering its wings.<br>"Thank you! Way to make me feel even better about my masculinity!" He shrugged and shuffled backward in the bed.  
>"It's all good. Now, lay back and remember to focus." The hand stroking my inner thigh moved to give my testicles a squeeze. "You have tight balls." He plucked at the skin and rolled one gently in his hand. It felt odd; warm, and good, like sinking into a warm tub. Still pink faced, I shook my head fiercely, lying down and pressing the pillow from the bed beside me over my face so he couldn't see me and the stupid expressions I was about to make.<br>With a little chuckle and a shuddering moan, I felt his breath against my twitching sphincter.  
>"You better get rid of that pillow. It will be no good for you if you suffocate yourself." His nose nudged a spot below my testicles that tightened pleasant muscles in my spine. My lips parted, I could feel them flushing again as my boner returned. It was tearing up already, in a tantrum to get relief. He rubbed the strange button spot with his nose a bit, successfully earning maybe two or three body-wide shudders before wet pillowed lips caressed the skin there and slid down, his tongue pointing and wiggling and tapping to see how much yield he could find. This was of course entirely new to me, the notion of what he was doing had never even occurred to me and of course it took me by extreme shock, but what was even more breathtakingly astounding was the feeling of pleasure it induced. Like a much more spot specific concentration of his back treatment before. Gilbert was literally eating my ass, and oh my god it was amazing. Horribly, chokingly amazing and I forgot in that instant about everything. Untrimmed hair, losing my virginity, doing this with another boy… everything disregarded except his tongue.<br>"Ahh…" My thighs clenched and he clicked his tongue, prying shyly at the spot he wanted entry to and flicking back in again with rapid speed. Worried I might just loose my strenuous grip on reality, I clawed, one handed, at his hair. It was fine, smooth, soft, and tickled the sides of my legs between which he worked. His mouth glided sweetly back up, taking my penis between his lips again, a finger pressing lightly at the wet spot he had left behind.  
>Being fingered wasn't anywhere near as bad as I would have, in a less aroused state, have expected. It was strange, not really enjoyable nor disgusting and his little oral fixation distracted me well until he had a second finger sliding in next door, wiggling, finding its place…<br>"That feels…" I peeked around the pillow, panting lightly.  
>"Shh…. It might hurt a little."<br>"It doesn't… hurt..." I hunched my shoulders, hips lifting an increment and felling a small case of the shivers settle across my pelvis. "It's…" A series of butterfly kisses across my stomach and I didn't even notice him begin to slide his fingers in and out, in and out… At least not until the action blossomed with a strange, pleasant tingle and I could really only concentrate on the feeling of having something firm moving in and out of me.  
>Something.<br>Someone…  
>Gilbert.<br>An uncontrollable stab of something cracked up my body from what felt like the very centre of my pelvic region, jerking my shoulders and gleaning a sharp, embarrassing "oh!" I would never have believed myself capable of. Clearly pleased with himself, he knelt up, hitching one of my legs over his shoulder and poking his criminal fingers around teasingly. My pillow was brought down and crushed to my chest like a security blanket, I whined.  
>"What?" He giggled quite cutely. For a little demon, his out of focus smile astonishingly handsome. My glasses looked well on him. "Did that feel good?"<br>"You know it did!" I tried to kick him in the skull with my lifted leg, ashamed. "What did you do?"  
>"Nothing awful…" His lips caressed my calve, right hand exploring and clamping around my foot. "Worried I might do it again?"<br>"N-ohhhhh GOD!" I was a little fucked up, vision blurring from whatever the hell it was he thought he was doing but that didn't mean I couldn't find it in myself to jerk him forward, my leg flexing back until it slid open sideways so I could kiss him and shut myself up. "Holy fuck, what are you doing to me?"  
>"It's a secret…" His soft breath flirted against my ear. "I won't tell, or you will teach yourself how to do it and then you won't have any use for me." So I suppose one could say I nodded like a little puppet, helpless when his fingertips grazed the odd trigger he had found, frantic heart screaming for him to kiss me, touch me, fill me up until the ballooning pleasure inside of me had swollen to pop, and he had earned every single one of the kisses he was borrowing and then paid interest.<br>"Mmmph!" I secured my hands around his neck, thumbs sliding along his jawbone to push his head back and kiss his pointed, slightly rough chin. "Please tell me how you're do-ING that~"  
>"After…" I whined lowly as the digits flexed, curling, beckoning, pressing hideously sweetly and tugging me robotically upward, as though my hips were attached to shallow wires on shuddering pulleys. Each stroke, each languid caress dropped a heavy chunk of something that could only be described as mock orgasm into my lowest abdomen, my voice spiralled steadily upward. In elegant loss of control, I let myself whine, cry, moan, beg for him until I found it and I was coming again, between us this time, hands tearing ruthlessly at the pillow I held and my everything fraying at the edges, coming slowly undone.<br>The thing that pulled me from the fading hazic of post-orgasm was a voice, breathless, repeating a slow, rhythmic mantra over and over. It slowed, the more conscious of it I became, and faded into a soft murmur of frustration when I recognised the lightness in it as my own.  
>"Cute." He mumbled on my mouth. "But I win. God… I did a lot of winning."<br>"Shut up!" Still shaking a little, I folded against his chest, wondering if maybe, if I shied enough, I would disappear. "It was an accident!"  
>"You still said it…"<br>"Shut up!"  
>"I'd just be glad Francis didn't hear that or he would be doing impressions for weeks."<br>"Ugh…" I nosed his collarbone. Nothing he could say could ever compensate for the mortification I was feeling right now.  
>"You know…" He settled against me and kissed my forehead. "I haven't come yet."<br>I shook my head.  
>"It would be a shame to let the stretching I gave you all go to waste…" My lead weight legs were both cast wide without a single warning, a pleasantly astonished remark about how flexible I was and he hitched down his knickers, uncovering his dick. It looked big… I wondered briefly if it would go in but no doubt he managed to get it inside just fine. Really just fine. It barely hurt, and the feel of it, hard, hot, inside me, was so eerily unlike his fingers that it made me dizzy. The sensation was entirely new, and entirely wonderful. With him inside, there was room for nothing else. Nothing at all…<br>"Oh my god…" His hands clenched either side of my body, head dropping to the side of my neck. "Fuck, princess, are you okay?"  
>"I-I'm fine!" Was all I managed to squeak. "Don't call me princess at times like th-ahhh~ fuck…"<br>"Mmmm…" He secured his mouth against mine, and pressed back in again. The noise I made was pathetic. A drawn out gasp, a light chorus of breathless, needful and trembling grunting, he didn't seem to mind at all, allowing his hips to fall into a slow and steady in-out that could only be described as surreal.  
>Gilbert's hands made me feel things in ways and places I wasn't entirely sure it was normal or a human being to be sensate to. Things like the feeling of having the inside of my chest caressed, and my skin having a strange tingling orgasm all of its own. Things like having walls of protection erected around me, like every brush of his hand across my skin left a road of colours and flavours and emotion I couldn't define. My head rolled back limply. Every one of his thrusts was melting me, and they were becoming more fluid, more controlled, and soon he was kneeling up, gliding in and out of me as like a well oiled machine. Each stroke deserved a blissful 'ah', fingers traced the butterfly veins on my bared throat. He wasn't quiet about it either, which made me feel a bit better, but not much.<br>Blood pounded in my ears; my limbs were blazing, my extremities numb with ecstasy. I felt something tug at the pillow I held and I let him throw it away so I could clutch him instead. He was much more solid, much hotter, and much more wonderful. One hand, the one with the ring, flirted with my erection, finger pulling teasingly at my foreskin, rubbing the crown in steady circles. His wrist was very patient and graceful, and oh yeah, he masturbated to me. It wasn't nearly so disturbing to think of like this. In fact, it was almost sexy. No, it _was_ sexy. The notion made me wild, and I felt myself edging, body heaving, getting closer and closer to unconscious oblivion.  
>"Stop." He released me and pulled back without warning and I fell back rigidly onto the bed with a thump. His body slipping out of mine made an obscene slicking noise and the hollowness where he once was felt cavernous. My pelvic muscles were quivering on the cusp of release and I hissed, furious.<br>"What are you doing? Idiot!"  
>"I was going to cum, and I didn't want to yet." A leg was firmly twisted with one of mine and he rolled backward, inviting me on top. "Do you want to ride?" Sucking my bottom lip, I knelt on top him and groped behind me for his dick. It popped back in easily, relief overwhelmed me to be full again, and in charge. He grunted something, and scraped his nails up and down my thighs. I felt like a whore sitting with my legs spread on his cock, but somehow, also, I felt sexy. Incredibly sexy. I sat up straight with my hands on the 'v' of his pubic bone, my shoulders back and squared and wished I could see him clearly.<br>"Gil… my glasses…"  
>"Mmm…" He took them off and held them out for me so I could lean forward and let his quivering fingers set them on my face. The light motion was pleasurable, and once I had my glasses on I didn't hesitate to keep moving, back and forward, slowly until I was comfortable with my pace, and brought it up a little faster, harder. He groaned, and lifting a hand to the back of my neck pulled me closer to share kisses.<br>Despite wanting me on top, he matched the work I did himself, raising his hips in perfect time with my own and still fucking me in that way he had with his fingers, skating across the magic spot I hoped he would explain to me later and making sexy Gilbert noises. Heavy breathing, punctuated by gruff words and guttural grunts… I let myself moan like a little slut, as if his voice was calling for mine to respond and he took it really well, sliding his nose along mine and smiling against the side of my face.  
>"God your hot…"<br>"Gilbert…" His teeth sunk shallowly into the side of my neck and very suddenly I wanted him to make marks there. It was easy, pulling my hands out from between us and clutching his head against my neck. It was worth it when those teeth began to pinch and nibble, and tender suction drew blossoms of warmth beneath my skin.  
>"Roderich…" He kissed my hairline behind my ear, taking the flatness of the edge into his mouth and biting a little, just to pinch. "Princess…"<br>"Don't…" I sat up, placing my palms flat on his chest for leverage. My spine was melting. I just wanted to cum. Cum and be free from the burning, agonising tension. He still seemed fairly composed beneath me, his fringe a little damp with sweat but that was about it. I probably looked like a disgrace.  
>His hands came to rest at the small of my back, he pushed and pulled, thrusting in and out, moving hotly through me from head to toe every strenuous thread of muscle in me was coiling, tightening, becoming fraught with ecstasy as we rocked and rocked to relief…<br>"Gilbert…Gilbert~ fuck!" I buckled, the tightness in my stomach snapped suddenly and it wasn't like either of my other orgasms nor any other orgasm I've ever had in my life. It was sudden, no gradual build up plateauing and then dropping sweetly into release but instead a powerful, unexpected leap that spiked, taking me past any plateau I've ever felt before and dropping me ruthlessly, so suddenly that I felt dizzy. It was over quick, but it shook me up in a way that felt like it went on forever. With ribbons of jizz decorating his stomach and my forearms, and my entire torso throbbing with heat afterward, I felt all my bones turn to jelly, and fell limply sideways with a cry. He leapt on me, straddling my chest, and raking his fingers frantically through my hair.  
>"Suck." He growled, ring of thumb and pointer finger desperately jerking the base of the dick pressing to my lips. "I'm almost there." Still riding my orgasm, my throbbing hands between my legs still stroking my length to get every last wave and tremor out of it, I opened my lips and sucked the tip, receiving the most desperate, utterly delicious sound I've ever heard before. He didn't want me to suck long though, because after a few seconds he pulled away, settling backward a bit and whacking off swiftly in front of me. I looked past his erection to his face, the pinkness on his cheeks, his lips pressed into a thin line so he was breathing through his nose. His eyes were closed, and the chords on his neck and shoulders popped a little with pressure. One of my hands wasn't necessary on my softening cock, so, limply, I lifted it and cautiously stroked his thigh.<br>His eyes cracked open, and met mine and for a split second my heart stopped. I had a moment to wonder if I was about to explode with overwhelming desire before something wet, hot, and salty splattered across my cheek and left glasses' lens. His eyes closed again, his head tipped back, and nothing could have ever prepared me for the way he said my name when he came.  
>"Roderich!"<br>So rather than let him stroke out the last I propped myself up and sucked, grabbing his cock still issuing forth with ejaculate and taking it on my tongue. The flavour wasn't pleasant and his hands suddenly clamping in my hair hurt, but it was worth it for the sounds he made and the new feeling of sexiness burning in my body.  
>I sucked it all out of him, I suppose, until not a single drop more of his semen was coming out and he had relaxed, clawed hands turning to gentle combing. Ragged, heaving breaths fading to panting. I didn't stop pumping though, when I pulled off. Not until he tipped my head up and had gazed at me for a second, contentment and amazement shining in his eyes.<br>"I love you…"  
>"I know."<br>"Kiss me?"  
>And before I could answer, even though my mouth tasted like his cum, he moved off me and pressed me back down against the bed, and kissed me as though I had never hurt him before.<p>

…_I love him…_

Soooooooooooooo… who wants to review? :3 I don't own hetalia, I don't even really own the plot. It was sheemajays request, da. Hope its okay… :/ (please ignore fail formatting please please please that was NOT my fault it was the websites it hates me. OTL)


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